the Magic of Ordinary Days
by Brown Eyes Parker
Summary: Pregnant before marriage in 1944, 25-year-old Teresa Lisbon is sent to a small town in California to marry Patrick Jane. Both are lonely, both have secrets. Will they fall in love? Or will circumstances keep them apart? Based on the Magic of Ordinary Days. Major AU, Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

**The Magic Of Ordinary Days**

**A Jane &amp; Lisbon Story**

**By Brown Eyes Parker**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Author's Note:**

**This is **_**loosely**_** based on the idea for **_**the Magic Of Ordinary Days**_**, it is an excellent story and one that I would not try to replicate exactly. So, if you know the story then please don't compare the two. I am only using the general idea for it, if you don't know the story then I hope you will check out the movie or the book because it is amazing. **

**.**

**Chapter 1**

Teresa Lisbon clutched her suitcase with both hands while her father preached at her for her numerous transgressions. She tried to drown him out but he was already in her head, a constant litany about how she had erred drummed on and on in her mind until she thought she was going to scream. If she heard one more scripture verse about sexual immorality, she didn't know what she would do.

But the sound of a whistle train blowing in the distance was her salvation. In a short twenty-four hours, she would be far away from her home and her father's judgmental looks and harsh words about how she was a terrible sinner.

She could only pray the place she was going was a better place than the one she was in now. A safe haven for her and the little life that was growing in her womb as she waited to go off and marry a complete stranger, a man who was willing to marry her despite the fact that she was damaged goods and due to have another man's child in eight months.

The train that would take her to her new life came to a grinding halt, moaning as it rested its weary engine and Teresa almost sighed in relief.

"Goodbye Father," she said, turning to look at him, searching for the tiniest bit of forgiveness in his eyes but there was none and her spirits faltered a little bit.

He turned away from her, not even acknowledging her farewell. Teresa squared her shoulders, trying not to let his snub affect her. She lifted her chin, determined to keep a stiff-upper lip as she boarded the train.

As the train chugged away, she didn't look out the window, there was no need to. She already knew her father had walked away the second she had boarded the train, glad to be rid of his harlot of a daughter and get home to his theological textbooks and sermon notes.

He would probably preach a special sermon this week, something that was directed at the young girls of his congregation. Something about the evils of sexual immorality and walking upright with the Lord, scaring them all to death with the promise of fire and brimstone if they lost their purity before they were married even though most of the young girls in Chicago Methodist Church probably still hadn't had the 'birds &amp; the bees' talk yet, it was something you didn't typically talk about until they had sailed into 'womanhood' on a sea of warm blood.

Teresa knew from experience how mortifying bleeding from the inside onto your snowy white panties had been. She hadn't known how to breach the subject with her own mother, too embarrassed and too ashamed to say anything to her about it because it didn't seem like tne sort of thing you talked about in polite company.

Thankfully, her mother had been very intuitive and she had approached _her _about. They had spent hours talking about it over Cokes and ice cream sundaes. She had told her everything and more, Anne Lisbon had been the _complete_ picture of understanding.

If only her father could have been as understanding as her mother had been that day thirteen years ago.

If only he could have really understood why she had surrendered her virginity so easily, maybe he wouldn't have been so hasty to judge her for her sins. Or maybe he would have judged her even more severely. Yes, she was thankful she had never told him _why _she had gone to bed with the handsome young soldier. Her father wouldn't have understood at all and her ears were already burning enough from his hateful use of the Bible.

Her father's unlovingness, his sending her away to marry a complete stranger. . . it didn't make her sorry for what she had done at all. Not in front of him and definitely not in front of the God that she had once loved more than anything else in the world. If God was as hateful and damning as her father was. . . well, she didn't want anything to do with him.

It was times like these that she missed her mother so much it physically hurt to breathe. Teresa covered her face with her two glove-covered hands and tried not to fall apart.

By the next morning, she was exhausted. She hadn't slept very well and she'd spent most of the trop in the train lavatory, clinging to the toilet with motion sickness. She felt disgusting and was pretty sure she looked that way too. She retrieved her suitcase from her compartment and cleaned up as best as she could in the sink.

She changed her dress into a pretty cream colored one that was splashed with large violets. She smoothed out the flyaways in her dark hair and released a deep breath. She still had dark circles under her eyes but there was nothing she could do about _that_, hopefully her new groom wouldn't notice.

Teresa opened her purse and pulled out her favorite tube of red lipstick and applied an even layer. After rubbing her lips together, she sighed again and braced her hands on either side of the sink. "Teresa Lisbon, welcome to the first day of the rest of your life," she said sarcastically.

She made her way back to her seat and settled in for the final hours of her journey out west, trying not to let the nerves get the best of her stomach _again_.

**.**

California was hot and dry, a sharp contrast from humid Chicago. The town that was going to be her new home looked like it had been frozen in time; nothing was modern or current about it. It was faded and tired, the movie marquee was showing a picture she had already seen six months ago and there weren't any restaurants

Teresa thought maybe her father had wanted to send her to hell on purpose even though Patrick Jane had been the _only _young man who wanted to marry her out of the twelve churches her father had sent letters of inquiry out to.

"Teresa Lisbon?"

She looked up and found a young man with curly blonde hair and stunning green eyes, studying her intensely.

"Yes?" She answered.

"I'm Patrick Jane," he said, holding out his hand her's. "I recognized you from the photograph that Reverend Minelli showed me."

Teresa took his hand politely and observed him. He looked like a hard worker, his face was colored by the sun and he had a smattering of freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks. His eyes were not only stunning but kind too, non-judgmental. He looked like he belonged in Hollywood, not in a small town. He would give Cary Grant and Clark Gable a run for their money; he would make the silver screen bombshells swoon.

"Hello Patrick," she said, managing to smile at him.

"Are you ready to get married?" Patrick asked, reaching for her suitcase.

"Yes," Teresa answered hollowly as she handed him her luggage and followed him to a beaten up robin's egg blue, Chevy truck.

"Me too," Patrick replied, smiling easily at her. "I've always wanted to be married."

"Then why didn't you get married before now?" Teresa asked, a blush followed her blunt question and she wished she had heeded her mother's advice to not be nosey.

Patrick shrugged. "Nobody's ever really wanted me before now."

"There had to be someone though," Teresa answered as he opened the truck door for him and she slid in, thankful to see that the inside was immaculate. There would be no oil puddles or anything else that would be likely to stain her dress.

Patrick shrugged again, not saying anything. She could tell from the look on his face that there _had _been somebody, but he didn't want to share the intimate details of his personal life with a complete stranger.

Teresa didn't ask for more details, she didn't want to irritate him so soon after they had met. Instead she changed the subject, pressing her hand to her abdomen. "Do you think you'll be able to love my baby as your own?" she asked.

"Of course!" Patrick answered, looking at her stomach and smiling. "I would have never agreed to marry you if I didn't think I could love your child. A home where there isn't love and affection from both the parents isn't much of a home at all."

"That's true," Teresa agreed.

"I was blessed enough to grow up in a home with two loving parents. I had a good example of what a father should be like, so I think I'll be a good one too."

"Yes," Teresa answered. "It's always helps to have a good example."

They lapsed into silence and a few seconds later, Patrick had parked in front of a quaint white church. Reverend Virgil Minelli and his wife, May was waiting for them on the porch steps. She was relieved to see her father's old friend even though she was bracing herself for another round of fiery judgement. The round of scripture, more painful than any bullet, didn't come though. Instead, she greeted with welcoming words and warm embraces from both Reverend Minelli and May.

The vows seemed to go by in a blur, the next thing she knew, she was exchanging rings with Patrick and Reverend Minelli was pronouncing them husband and wife and telling Patrick to kiss his bride.

Teresa closed her eyes, bracing herself for a kiss from somebody who was almost a perfect stranger. It was quick and undemanding. . . polite, his lips grazed her and were gone before a full second had even ticked by. When the ceremony was over, Reverend Minelli insisted on taking a picture for them to commemorate the occasion.

She could still see spots in front of her eyes as Patrick ushered her back into the truck and told her that they were going to have their wedding supper with his sister and her husband. Teresa felt a sense of relief wash over her knowing that she wouldn't have to cook dinner for them after her long trip.

The drive out of town was long and hot, another hour of travel time. She just wanted to be settled, she was feeling restless now. Just when she didn't think she could handle it anymore, he was pulling onto farmland.

A pretty red-headed girl was running to meet them, a smile on her face. Two kids weren't too far behind her, jumping up and down while they shouted _Uncle Patrick, Uncle Patrick! _together.

"Hi Ben, hi Maddie!" Patrick called out the open window as he came to a complete stop and turned the vehicle. As soon as he had stepped outside, he had been tackled by his niece and nephew. "That's enough kids; I need to help your new aunt out of the truck."

The three of them came around the other side of the truck and before she knew what was happening, Teresa was outside and being assaulted with embraces by two kids.

"Benjamin, Madeline! Give Teresa some breathing room, _please_!" Their mother scolded, but not too harshly. She was smiling and laughing just as much as her children were. "Hey there, I'm Grace Rigsby."

"Teresa Lisbon. . . I mean _Jane_," Teresa answered. "Nice to meet you."

Grace laughed. "Changing your last name takes a little getting used to, don't worry about it. Come on in and have a glass of lemonade. Patrick, Wayne and Kimball are in the barn, if you want to go out and help them with the rest of the chores."

"Thank you," Patrick answered as he pulled off his tie, suit coat and vest. "Will you be okay Teresa?

"She'll be fine!" Grace said. "I'm not gonna hurt her, Patrick! And I won't expose any of your dirty little secrets either, stop worrying."

"He has dirty little secrets?" Teresa asked as her new husband disappeared. 

"Hardly," Grace replied as she ushered her into the house and led her to a cozy kitchen, painted in a friendly shade of yellow with daisy decorations.

She went to the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade and poured Teresa some into a tall glass.

"Can I have some too mommy?" Maddie asked pleadingly.

"Just a little bit," Grace answered, giving the girl a swallowful in another glass. "I don't want you to spoil your supper."

"Forgive me for saying this, but you and Patrick look nothing alike," Teresa said after taking a sip of lemonade.

"Oh, he's not my _biological _brother," Grace replied. "I was adopted; my biological father and mother weren't married. And nobody wanted to marry my mother the way Patrick married you, especially since they all knew who my father was."

"A murderer," Ben interjected bluntly.

"_Benjamin!"_ Grace scolded. "Go to the barn and help your father finish the chores! _Now!_"

Ben slammed his hat on his head and grinned before disappearing out the back door.

"I didn't mean to start anything," Teresa apologized.

"It wasn't your fault," Grace assured her. "Ben's still learning _not _to say things that he shouldn't, especially around new family members. It isn't a secret, the man my father was, but he was just trying to shock you."

"I'm so glad you're here!" Maddie chimed in, leaning on Teresa's knees and looking up at her with eyes that were exactly the same color as her mother's. "I only have uncles and they both died in the war last year."

"Maddie, _shhh_!" Grace said, covering her daughter's mouth with her hand. "There's no need to overwhelm Auntie Teresa with our life story right now! Daddy and I told you before she came not to bombard her, remember? She's had a long trip, she's exhausted. Save it for another day, okay sweetie?"

Maddie rolled her eyes. "Yes ma'am," she replied, straightening up and taking the chair next to Teresa's.

Dinner was an uneventful affair, Maddie and Ben stared at Teresa the whole time while Grace engaged her in small talk and Wayne, Grace's husband, discussed plans for the upcoming town dance with Patrick.

As soon as the meal was over, Patrick was ushering Teresa out the door and back to the truck as they both thanked Grace for supper. Patrick needed to get home and do his own neglected evening chores.

Thankfully, he only lived a mile away from the Rigsby farm. So, they were home in a short amount of time. The sun was setting when they reached his house, so she couldn't really take in her new surroundings but she could tell the house was sturdy and safe. A home that had been already been passed down through a few generations of Janes, according to Grace. It would be a good place to raise a child, a home filled with generations of love and faith.

"It's kind of old," Patrick said, breaking into her thoughts.

Teresa shook her head. "It's perfect," she told him.

"I'm glad you like it," Patrick answered, lifting her suitcase out of the bed of the truck and bringing her up to the house. "My great-great-grandfather built it for my great-great-grandmother before they got married. When he died, he left it to his son, who left it to my grandfather. When my father got it, he remodeled it a little bit before he married my mother."

"And now you have it," Teresa said as he opened the door and let her into the hallway.

"Yes," Patrick replied. "And I'll leave it to our son one day, if we have one. If we don't, I'll leave it to our daughter. . . if she wants it. Come on, I'll show you to your room."

"My room?" Teresa asked as she followed him up the stairs.

"My dad and mom's old room," Patrick told her as he showed her into a spacious bedroom with a wrought-iron bed and two picture windows. "I'll sleep in the room that I used to share with my brothers. If you need anything, it's right across the hall from this room."

"Thank you," Teresa answered, shedding her jacket and taking off her hat as she looked around the room.

Patrick put her suitcase on the bed and then opened the windows, letting in the evening breeze. "Tell me if you want to redecorate it, I'd be more than happy to take you into town to order material and paint. I have to go let the dog out of the barn and do a few things before bed. I'll see you in the morning, Teresa."

"Goodnight," Teresa said, thankful that he wasn't expecting her to consummate their marriage or share a bed with him.

Marrying him was one thing, giving herself to him was another. Especially when she still loved somebody else. Her hand went to the locket around her neck and she opened it too look at the man who had her heart again. She touched his face and wished things were different, wished that there was no war going on and she could have married him instead.

She sighed and went to the window, looking out at the yard. She could make out Patrick and a golden retriever, running around the yard, could hear the joyful barks from the dog as he played with his master. She let the curtain drop back into place and shimmied out of her dress, changing into her nightgown.

After taking her down and brushing the tangles out, she crawled into bed and was asleep before her head had even hit the pillow.

**.**

Patrick was too excited to sleep; he took the family Bible off the shelf and turned to the front page where a long list of Jane marriages was recorded. He smiled to himself as he added his and Teresa's names and the date of their wedding under those of his parents.

For the first time in a while, his heart was overflowing. There was love and a family in his future, he was so thankful to God and Reverend Minelli for sending Teresa Lisbon to him. He only hoped that he could endeavor to deserve her.

In the meantime, he would cherish her as best as he could and try and be half the husband that his father had been.

**TBC. . .**

.

**Author's Note II:**

**First of all, I don't normally like stories where Lisbon is pregnant and second of all, I really don't like them where she is pregnant with somebody else's baby. But this story was nagging me like **_**crazy**_**, so I decided to go with my muse. I hope you all will take the time to tell me what you think. I am anxiously awaiting your thoughts and your reviews.**

**Until Next Time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 3/13/2015_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Shout-Outs: Azucar, Idan, auntcj, NANNETTE, irinus, MissDonnie, melovecastle, Caramelapple27, MartyMc, glindaloveshoes, LAurore, Jane Doe51, and DominikaLodz **

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 2**

Teresa was woken up by a crowing rooster; she groaned and pulled her pillow over her head. She was used to sleeping until the sun had at least risen, but she didn't have to look at the alarm clock by her bed to know that the sun wouldn't be out for at least another hour yet. She didn't know if her new husband expected her to get up with him or not, he hadn't mentioned it to her.

After a split-second, she sat up and got out of bed. She found her robe and tied it shut before padding out of the bedroom and down the staircase to the kitchen. Patrick was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper in faded overalls and a pair of socks with a hole in his toe. He looked up when he heard her at the doorway.

"Oh, you're awake. I was going to let you sleep this morning," he said. "Are you feeling okay? You're not having any morning sickness, are you? I know Grace struggled with it all through both of her pregnancies. . ."

"I feel fine," Teresa assured him. "I haven't had too much trouble with morning sickness yet. I just couldn't sleep with all that crowing outside my window."

"You get used to it," Patrick answered, smiling a little bit. "I mean, you'll get used to waking up before the sun and going to bed early. You're a strong woman, I can tell. Adjusting will be easy."

"I'm not that strong," Teresa murmured.

"Mmmh?" Patrick asked.

"Nothing," Teresa answered. "Have you eaten yet?"

"I had some toast," Patrick replied. "It'll hold me over until lunch, I'm helping Wayne at his house today, and Grace will feed us. There are sandwich things in the icebox for your lunch or if you don't want to be alone, I could just come and pick you up to eat with us."

"I think I'll just use today to settle in and get to know the house, the land. If that's okay with you, that is."

Patrick nodded. "This is your home too now; feel free to make yourself comfortable. If you want to take a walk, I'd appreciate it if you'd take Jack with you."

"Jack?" Teresa asked.

"Jack's our dog," Patrick told her. "I'll introduce him to you before I leave for the day."

"Are you going to be home for supper?" Teresa wanted to know as he put his paper down and pulled on his boots and tied the laces.

Patrick nodded. "I should be home around noon," he answered. "Are you going to need help preparing dinner?"

"I've been cooking ever since I was a little girl," Teresa replied, folding her arms across her stomach. "I could make meals _blindfolded_, thank you very much."

Patrick laughed. "Good to know. Well, there's chicken in the icebox and potatoes in the pantry, if you want vegetables we have an abundant garden. I make sure there's enough for me and for other people who might need them. Come on, I'll show you where it is."

"I'm still in my nightgown though!"

"There's nobody around to see you," Patrick reminded her. "We're practically in the middle of nowhere."

Teresa sighed and followed him outside, Patrick called for Jack and the golden retriever from the night before came bounding up to them.

"Teresa, this is Jack," Patrick said.

Teresa smiled and patted his silky ears. "He's a lovely dog," she said.

"He's a loyal dog too," Patrick told her. "He's the best dog in the whole town. Come on, the garden's right up there!"

Jack followed them to the garden and Patrick told her where everything was planted. He was right, his Victory garden put the one she had left behind in Chicago to shame, but then, she had only been able to plant a small one in the corner of her yard.

After he had showed her around the garden, he made sure that she was going to be all right by herself and that her stomach still wasn't giving her troubles before leaving her alone to go and help out his brother-in-law.

When he was gone, Teresa went back into the house and poured herself a glass of milk, since she had gotten pregnant coffee wasn't appealing to her in the same way that it used to. She took it upstairs with her, sipping it while she got ready for her day. She let her hair hang loose around her shoulders, because she knew there weren't any chances of visitors. There was no need to secure it in a tight roll at the nape of her neck, nobody would judge her here. She put on a navy blue skirt and a white blouse and found her apron, leaving her shoes at the end of her bed and her nylons rolled up in the corner of her suitcase, they were her last pair and they already had a small run in the left thigh.

She hadn't went around barefoot or legged since she had turned sixteen and her father had _insisted _that she started dressing and acting like a respectable woman. Bare legs, he had told her at her sweet sixteen celebration, were a temptation to men.

She knew that he had been telling her the truth about _that_ at least.

Her soldier had _sung _her legs praises, whispering the most inappropriate and shocking things about them to her, especially when they were in public. It had been thrilling and worldly, all the things her father had warned her against, playing out in her life like a show at the Chicago Theater. She had been a beautiful starlet and he had been the leading man, simpering and smirking and making love to her until she swooned and was putty in his hand.

Teresa forced herself back into the present day and concentrated on the mundane things of her new life. Making the bed and unpacking her suitcase, hanging her meager wardrobe in the empty closet and putting the few books she had brought with her on the nightstand by her bed.

She put her slips and undergarments and one pair of _Levis _in the bureau near the door. She saved the worn, wooden box for last. Teresa took the cover off and carefully lifted out her mother's silver cross and chain, to make sure it hadn't gotten knotted during her journey.

It had been the last thing she had inherited from her and she had worn it proudly until the day her father had found out she was having a baby. Wearing it felt like a farce long before he had known about her indiscretion, but in the wake of his finding out, it had become like a noose around her neck.

So, Teresa had taken it off and put it into the box to keep it out of sight and out of mind. She was pretty sure she would _never _wear it again.

She closed her suitcase and put it under the bed, releasing a deep breath as the finality of it all washed over her.

This was her home now and there was nothing she could do about it except try to make the best of it.

She went out into the hallway and looked around, wondering what to do next. Patrick kept a clean house. She was dying to see the rest of the house, so she walked to the room across from her's and pushed the door open.

It was a girl's room, maybe the one where Grace had lived in before she had gotten married. It was empty for the most part and not of much interest to Teresa. So, she moved to the next room.

It was the room that Patrick had shared with his brothers and was probably still sleeping in now, if the unmade bed was anything to go by. She went into the room and made it up for him, fluffing up the pillows and straightening the blanket. The nightstand drawer was open and she could hear a pocket watch ticking loudly. She closed it with her hip, so she could muffle the sound before finishing neatening his bed.

When that was finished, it was still barely noon and the only other thing to do was clean the sparse amount of breakfast dishes. When that was finished, she made herself a small lunch and decided to write a letter to her soldier to tell him where she had landed if he ever decided to come and see their child.

She fetched her stationary and her favorite pen and wrote him a lengthy letter about her trip to California and her new home. She ended it with telling him how far along she was in the pregnancy and how much she missed him. . . that she wouldn't stop missing him or loving him even though she had married somebody else.

Teresa quickly addressed it and stashed it in her purse then decided to take a walk, she called for Jack and he fell into place beside her immediately. She could tell just by looking at it that once upon a time it was a great farm land, but time and circumstances had been against it. She wondered how he even earned a livelihood living like this. It didn't seem possible to have any money and run a huge farm at the same time.

She turned around and walked back, thinking about a multitude of things. Like how she still hadn't told Patrick about the man who had gotten her pregnant. She was sure he was curious but she didn't feel the need to. Not right now.

Maybe she would be able to tell him one day when she knew him and his disposition better, when she knew he would understand that this was just a marriage of convenience for her and her unborn child. There wouldn't be anything between them except for a business transaction, yes, her baby would grow up and call Patrick, _dad_. But she would never share her bed or her body with him.

She couldn't share her heart with him either. Not when their marriage wasn't even twenty-four hours old and they barely knew each other. It was still a mystery to Teresa as to why Patrick would marry a complete stranger.

She couldn't completely believe him when he said it was because he had always wanted to be married even though she was sure that played a part in it.

She pushed the thoughts aside and made her way back to the house where she spent the rest of the afternoon, reading one of her old Agatha Christie novels.

Around five, Patrick popped his head in the door with a boyish grin and told her that he was going to wash up before he came inside because he was filthy from all the work they had done over at the Rigsby's house.

Teresa nodded, thankful for the extra few minutes to herself before she had to figure out to say to the stranger who she was calling her husband.

**.**

Patrick was cheerful as he washed the dirt and sweat from the day off of his face and neck, taking extra care with his fingernails. It had been a while since he had somebody to come home to and he wanted to make a good impression on his new wife. His mother had always told him that girls liked it when you paid extra attention to your appearance.

It had been a while since he had had a girl to put an effort into his appearance for. The last girl had left him just as quickly as summer did. . . in the same way his brothers had. He pushed thoughts of her aside and determined not to think about her.

He looked at himself in the cracked mirror and smiled as he ran his fingers through his golden curls and hummed the newest Bing Crosby hit to himself, looking for happier thoughts.

For the first time since he and Grace had buried their brothers, he suddenly felt like he had purpose again. He was no longer asking God _why _He had allowed his brothers to go to war and not him, now he knew.

A young woman and her child needed him.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**I confess, I rewrote this chapter twice because I was afraid it wouldn't match up to the first chapter. So, here I am. . . leaving it here, hopeful that everybody likes it just as much as chapter one. I am anxiously awaiting your thoughts. I know there are still a ton of questions and I will answer each and every one of them as the story progresses. I promise!**

**Until Next Time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 3/20/2015_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Shout-Outs: Rosepeony, CrazerCat, Azucar, Guest, Lugenia, Grumpy Insomniac, Guest, NANNETTE, Eldanar, devilscherry, notjustpartners, OTHGirl24, Guest, Reooo, MartyMC49, LAurore, and Jane Doe51**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 3**

For the better part of five years, Patrick had gotten used to his own conversation. Sure, he'd talked to the families at church and to his family when they would come over for dinner, but for the most part it was just him and Jack, and the cow that sometimes gave milk but more often didn't.

Given his circumstances, he had so much to say Teresa. But he didn't want to bombard her with questions even though there was so much that he wanted to know. Like her music preferences and whether or not she liked Cary Grant better than William Powell. It was things he had wanted to discuss his whole entire life but had never had anybody to discuss it with. His father had been a farmer who preferred he hadn't spent so much time with his head in the clouds. . . his brothers hadn't thought much at all. Grace and his mother had spent most of their time on housework, they enjoyed the occasional movie or novel but quickly returned to reality when the credits had rolled or they had turned the last page in their book.

Patrick had always wanted the best of both worlds, but his father had always told him that he couldn't discuss the rerun of _the Thin Man _movie at the local theater and plant carrots all at the same time.

He looked at Teresa, peeling potatoes and humming along with the portable radio and tried to find the courage to speak to her like he would when he was trying to make a new friend. But his words got stuck in his throat and he wondered how he had gotten so shy all of a sudden.

"Are you planning on going to church tomorrow?" Teresa asked, not looking up from her dinner preparations.

"Um. . . yes, of course," Patrick answered. "It is Sunday, why wouldn't we go to church? I never miss a service, unless I'm sick or snowed in."

"Me either," Teresa replied. "But then I was the pastor's daughter. I _couldn't_ miss a service unless I was down with a fever or something equally as catching, like the influenza."

"I understand," Patrick said, releasing a deep breath. "Teresa, I need to warn you about something. There's a young woman in our congregation, she's wanted to get together with me for years now. I don't think she'll take too kindly to the fact that I've gotten married."

Teresa raised an eyebrow and finally looked at him. "This young woman, is she the reason you married me? So, she would stop chasing you?"

"No!" Patrick retorted. "Of course not! I told you, I've always wanted to get married and be a husband. Maybe if you hadn't needed somebody to take care of you, I would have eventually wound up married to Lorelei Martins. . . but she just isn't the kind of girl you'd marry. She's fun for a while but there's nothing substantial to her."

"Did you ever have anything with her?" Teresa asked, he knew she wasn't jealous, didn't have any right to be because of the situation they were in, she was just curious.

"No."

"But there was someone?"

"That's a story for another day," Patrick answered.

"When we know each other better?" Teresa asked. "When we can trust each other with our stories and our secrets."

"Who says we can't trust each other now? I wouldn't have married you if I didn't think I could trust you, marriage is built on trust, Teresa."

"I know that!" Teresa answered defensively, filling the pot to the brim with water and slamming it down on the stove. She covered her face with her hand and released a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"It's fine," Patrick assured her. "Here, I'll finish making dinner for you, you take it easy."

"I'm not fragile, you know, just pregnant."

"Grace had rough pregnancies with both Maddie and Ben, and she's a larger woman than you are. There's nothing wrong with taking it easy," Patrick answered.

Teresa's lips quirked into a smile. "You shouldn't say Grace is _large_."

Patrick frowned. "I didn't mean anything by it though. I just meant she was tall and strong."

"I'm stronger than I look," Teresa assured him. "I was the one who lifted my mother and bathed her. I did it by myself, don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"How long has it been since you've had somebody worry over you?" Patrick asked.

"What?" Teresa asked, startled by his question.

"When was the last time you had somebody to worry over _you_?" Patrick repeated.

"Oh. Well, it's been a really long time since anybody really worried about me," Teresa confessed.

"You don't have to do it on your own anymore," Patrick told her, looking like he wanted to reach out and touch her but he held back and held her gaze instead, trying to make her see that he was nothing but sincere.

Teresa managed to smile at him. "Thank you," she said even though she wasn't sure she could adjust to being worried over and looked after.

It had been such a terribly long time since anybody had made sure she had eaten breakfast or asked if she had gotten enough sleep the night before. Looking at Patrick, she was sure that he hadn't had somebody to _really _look out for him in a very long time either.

She had a feeling given sometime they would both be worrying after each other to the point of annoyance. She shook her head as if to snap herself out of it, she didn't want to think about developing any sort of affection for him.

It was strictly a business transaction.

A business transaction that would protect the good name of her and her father. A baby born to a married couple was certainly better than one born to a single, pastor's daughter even if she was essentially living a lie of omission by letting people believe that Patrick Jane had fathered her child.

"You're deep in thought there," Patrick said. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's just fine," Teresa hurried to assure him. "I was just thinking about. . . how somebody your age would be so willing to stay here, stuck on a farm that isn't really running anymore. Don't you ever wonder what's out there beyond the empty fields?"

"Sure I do," Patrick answered. "If I'm being honest, I never imagined that I would be here when I was twenty-five. But when the war started, they wouldn't take me because of some slight hearing loss in my right ear. Anyways, if I had gone then there wouldn't have been anybody to take care of the folks around town or to marry you."

"You seem to think you're getting a really good deal marrying me," Teresa said.

"I am though," Patrick replied. "I'm not alone on this farm with my thoughts and a dog for company. That's the best deal that I've had in a while, if I'm being completely honest. But what about you? Did you imagine a different life than this? Did you imagine seeing the Pyramids or the Eiffel Tower one day?"

"A little bit," Teresa answered. "But in my wildest dreams, I wanted to work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Or maybe become a private investigator, I think it would have been fun to run around Chicago, solving murders and wearing a shocking shade of red lipstick because I was doing something shocking."

"I'm afraid there aren't many murders to solve around here," Patrick said. "In fact, I can't remember the last time we had a murder, to be honest. There was a suicide last year though, Dr. Steiner killed himself after he found out his son had been killed in action. I was the one who found him, it had been my turn to bring him dinner and he was on his porch swing. . . as white as a ghost, he overdosed on morphine."

"What a tragedy."

"He was dying anyways," Patrick answered. "When they were exploring the cause of death, they discovered he had advanced cancer. Maybe he knew, maybe his son's death was just what pushed him over the edge."

"My father says suicide is a sin," Teresa said.

"He was suffering though," Patrick replied. "He was a good man, he didn't deserve it. Maybe its better that he went the way he did instead of having to suffer through it."

"I never said I agreed with my father."

"Obviously there are a lot of things you and your father disagrees on," Patrick answered, stopping cold. "I'm sorry Teresa, maybe I shouldn't have said that, although it wasn't a comment about your current state, I promise."

Teresa sighed. "It doesn't matter."

Patrick shuffled his feet awkwardly and then excused himself to go find work to do in another part of the house while she finished dinner.

**.**

"_Who _is she?"

Patrick groaned inwardly as the lovely and exotic Lorelei Martins fell into place on his free side. He had been dreading this moment all morning, telling the girl who had unashamedly chased him that he was married. He just hopped she wouldn't throw a tantrum.

"Lorelei. . ." he started cautiously. "This is my wife, Teresa."

Lorelei's smile was glacial. "Your _wife_!? Well, isn't that just. . . that's just _lovely_! Congratulations! How did you two meet?"

"Chicago," Teresa answered quickly.

"Really? I didn't know you'd gone to Chicago," Lorelei said.

"It was ages ago," Teresa told her aloofly. "When we were both still teenagers, we reconnected recently and decided to elope."

"A whirlwind romance," Lorelei said tightly.

"Yes. You could say that," Teresa replied, smiling kindly at her. "It was lovely chatting with you Lorelei, but we really should go in and get our seat now."

"I have a cake for you in the car, Patrick!" Lorelei said, glancing at Teresa and wrinkling her nose. "I was going to see if you wanted to share it but I guess that request is kind of pointless now, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry Lorelei," Patrick said sincerely.

Lorelei held up one gloved hand and shook her head. "Spare me, please. You and I both know you aren't even a _little _bit sorry. And don't even bother trying to soothe my feelings by saying there's somebody else out there for me."

With that she spun around on her heel and marched back to her car, getting into it she sped away from the church.

"I didn't intend for her to take it so hard. . ." Patrick told Teresa trailing off as he watched Lorelei's vehicle kick up a trail of dust.

"Don't worry about it," Teresa replied. "She's just upset, she needs some time to herself to get over her disappoint. I think she must have liked you a lot."

"I didn't lead her on, if that's what you're thinking," Patrick said.

"I wasn't thinking that at all," Teresa replied as she made her way up the wooden porch steps and into the cool, dim church. "Oh, look there's May. I'm going to say hello, I'll be right back."

"I'll go and save our pew," Patrick answered, taking her Bible from her and ambling into the sanctuary as he greeted other congregants that were mingling while they waited for the morning service to start.

A few seconds later, May made her way down the aisle and to the piano, she began to play the opening hymn while Teresa settled into the seat beside him, she picked up a hymnal and paged through it like she was making herself familiar with the new pages of familiar songs. He watched her for the longest time before turning his attention back to the front of the room where Reverend Minelli was standing up and starting to make announcements.

He gave a warm welcome to Teresa and extolled the rest of the congregation to do the same while his wife smiled tightly beside him, more than a little embarrassed to be a focal point of attention. It didn't last long though; Minelli said a simple prayer and then instructed everybody to turn to page number 468 in the hymnal.

They all did while they stood and started to sing with one voice about their faith finding a resting place. Patrick knew the song by heart, his mother had sang it on a daily basis while he had been growing up, so instead of keeping his gaze on his book, he found it wondering over to Teresa.

She was standing with her eyes closed, singing the words by heart just like him, but her heart wasn't in it like everybody else's was though and he knew, the words weren't as true for her. Her faith had been shaken; she couldn't sing it with conviction. She could only go through the motions because it seemed like the whole town was watching the newcomer.

They sang another hymn, a new one that nobody had ever sang before, so his attention was drawn back to the page and then Reverend Minelli started his sermon, a loving message taken from one of the Psalms, Teresa fidgeted beside him.

Patrick hesitated for a moment before putting a gentle hand on her knee; she stilled immediately but didn't push him away.

**.**

"Reverend Minelli is different than my father," Teresa said later as Patrick pushed his canoe into the pond before jumping in and starting to paddle. "You would never guess they went to the same seminary."

"What do you mean?" Patrick asked.

"His sermon was so different than my father's," Teresa explained. "The only time I heard about God's love was when I talked to my mother. My father always talked about how He was judgmental and we needed to obey Him or we'd be in danger of Hell fire. It's hard to even believe Reverend Minelli and my father are friends."

"Maybe time and circumstances softened Reverend Minelli," Patrick said, trying his best to keep his eyes on the water and not take in the way Teresa was lounging across the boat, or her red toenails or her crossed ankles, and her face basking in the sun.

"Mmmh, maybe," Teresa agreed, closing her eyes as she skimmed her hand across the water. "It's such a beautiful day today."

"I'm glad that I get to spend it with you," Patrick replied.

Her eyes popped open and she stared at him in disbelief, words were forming on the tip of her tongue like she was going to tell him he couldn't say something like _that _when they had only known each other for a few days. But instead, she smiled and relaxed again, propping up on her elbows as she thanked him.

**TBC. . . **

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry for the delay in posting, real life is driving me **_**crazy**_**. My sister is getting married three weeks from tonight, so advanced warning; there probably won't be a chapter until April 25th. Forget wedding planning, I am the one in charge of the lingerie shower and that is in 13 days, also I am trying to adjust to the fact that my sister isn't going to live here anymore and that I am still single and 25 while my sister is getting married at 20. It isn't a good combination for my inspiration. **

**But I know where I'm going with chapter 4, parts are already written in my head. I promise, I'll try and have it written for next Friday night. . . although, I do have plans to see a movie with the sister I mentioned above. **

**Anyways, have a great Easter weekend!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 4/3/2015_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Shout-Outs: Grumpy Insomniac, Genia, CrazerCat, Azucar, Caramelapple27, Kathinka (for all her/his reviews), Dutchie, MissDonnie, OTHGirl24, Idan, Jane Doe51, Rosepeony**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 4**

It had been a month or two after her mother had finally died. Her best friend, Kimberly Fischer had come over and dragged her out of bed, ignoring the way she hadn't bathed in over a week as she drew her a bath and poured the last of her spicy smelling bath salts in the water.

"Don't argue with me Tess," Kim said as she dropped her in the tub, nightgown and all. "You're going out tonight whether you like it or not! You've been cooped up in this house too long. You _have _to start living once and for all, you've paid your dues. Do you think your mother would _want_ you to spend the rest of your life like this?"

"I don't know. . ." Teresa replied, her answer getting cut off as Kim dumped a pitcher of water of her dark hair. She choked and sputtered, rubbing it out of her eyes and nose.

"The answer is _no_! Your mother would want you to go and live your life. This isn't healthy, Tess. You're by yourself most of the time, it's like when Anne was alive except worse because you're _really_ alone. No, don't argue with me! I know you want to but any argument you'd make is invalid."

Teresa stopped protesting then and asked her to leave so she could bathe properly. An hour later, all perfumed and made up, she followed Kim to her car and got in without even asking her where they were going, she didn't have the energy too.

She didn't have the energy for anything.

They pulled up to a dance hall on the outskirts of town. Teresa turned weary eyes on Kim and sighed. "You know how my father feels about places like this," she said.

Kim shrugged. "What your father doesn't know won't hurt him. Come on, you've been playing the good little girl for long enough. Aren't you tired of not having fun?"

"I have fun!" Teresa answered defensively.

"Oh I'm sure you do. You've read about half the library by now, haven't you?"

"No!" Teresa paused and smiled in spite of herself. "I mean, I've hardly had time to read _half _the library."

"You've hardly had time to do anything at all," Kim reminded her. "Come on! Live a little, steal back your youth! You deserve it. Tonight, you aren't Teresa Lisbon, pastor's daughter. Patron saint of all Chicago. Tonight, you're _just_ Teresa."

_Just Teresa_.

She liked the sound of that. So, without another thought to what could go wrong and what she shouldn't be doing, she took the brick red lipstick Kim was offering her and applied it with firm, even strokes.

It made her look brazen. It made her look like somebody she wasn't, her father would be appalled. . . disappointed. She capped the tube of lipstick and pretended she didn't care what he thought.

She stumbled out of the car, unsteady on the heels Kim had brought her with the new dress and followed her friend into the dance hall, expecting it to be all sex and sin like her father had told her when he warned her against going to those kinds of establishments. But it wasn't anything of the sort. The people looked like regular, everyday folk. People she would see in church or talk to when she was purchasing groceries.

Some of them were serving their country.

Teresa accepted a glass of punch that smelled like it was spiked with something stronger and downed it in one gulp, she felt herself loosening up almost immediately after she finished it. She told herself that maybe a second one was a bad idea but went against her better judgement and accepted a refill.

She was nursing the second glass when _he _approached her.

"A pretty girl like you should be dancing," he said. "So, why aren't you?"

"Maybe because I'm _not _pretty," Teresa answered boldly.

"Have you looked in the mirror lately? You're stunning!"

"Go easy on her," Kim interjected, linking their arms together. "She's not used to male attention!"

"That can't be true either!"

"I am not in the habit of lying, sir!" Teresa said defensively. "I am neither pretty or used to male attention. Now, please leave me alone."

"Only if you agree to dance with me," he replied.

"I don't dance!"

"Now that has to be a lie. Where I come from, it's unpatriotic to dance!"

Teresa raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"No. But I've never met a girl who's refused to dance with me before," he answered.

"You're used to getting your way then," Teresa asked.

"All my life."

"Well, this is _one _time you won't be getting your way!" Teresa told him.

"Is that right?"

"That's right!" Teresa confirmed, but as she took another sip of her punch and stared the man in front of her down, she didn't believe what she was saying. All her common sense, everything her father had ever taught her was disappearing because the soldier was looking at her like she was the most beautiful girl in the whole entire room.

Teresa wasn't used to being looked at like that.

She kind of liked it.

He sighed and smiled at her like he knew what she was going to do next. "Fine, if that's the case then, I'll just go and drown my sorrows in the punch bowl."

Teresa sighed. "Fine! Fine! I'll dance with you! I wouldn't want you to get drunk on my account. Kimberly, watch my purse and my drink for me, please."

He smirked as he took her hand and whirled her onto the dance floor as one of the other soldiers put on a record from 1943. It was an intimate song and he was holding her shockingly close.

"Please. . ." Teresa whispered, her old need for decency coming back swiftly as his hand found the small of her back. "You shouldn't be holding me like this. Not even when we don't know each other's names. . ."

"Walter Mashburn," he said. "And you are?"

"Teresa Lisbon," she answered automatically.

Walter smirked and pulled her closer. "There, we aren't strangers anymore."

Teresa closed her eyes as butterflies she had only ever associated with Clark Gable started to stir up in her stomach. "No," she agreed. "We're not strangers anymore."

**.**

Teresa woke up with a start, she wasn't in the dance hall being swept off her feet anymore. She was back in a wrought-iron bed in California and it was time to get up and start her day. She sat up and pushed her hair away from her face.

She could hear Patrick shuffling around in the next room and she forced herself out of bed. out of her nightgown, into a skirt that was getting too tight and a blouse that wouldn't fit in a month. She blushed and hoped her husband wouldn't notice her changing body.

There was a knock on her door and she looked up startled.

"I'll be right there Patrick!" She called.

"I was just wondering if you wanted me to start breakfast!" He answered.

"Um. . ." she shuffled to the door and opened it as she buttoned up her last button. "It's fine, I'm dressed. I can come down and make breakfast for you."

"If you want to," Patrick replied, smiling at her. "Did you sleep well?"

Teresa blushed again as she thought about the dream she had just woken up from. "Yes," she answered. "How about you?"

"I slept just fine, thank you," Patrick said, stepping away from the threshold so she could leave the bedroom.

"Good. Come on and I'll make your breakfast. What do you have to do today?"

"Wayne and Kimball are coming over," Patrick told her. "We're trying to get the farm up and running like it used to be before my father died and the war started. I want our children to have something to inherit like I did. But I don't want them to inherit _nothing_."

"It isn't your responsibility," Teresa replied.

"It is though. It has been ever since I said _I do_," Patrick answered. "I know you don't believe it but _I _do."

Teresa took her apron off the peg near the stove and tied it around her waist, she desperately wanted to argue with him but everything her mother had taught her about being submissive came flooding back. Besides, she _knew_ he was right. He _had _taken vows to look after her, he was responsible.

And when it came down to it, _he _was the one there while Walter wasn't, even though Walter really hadn't had a choice in the matter.

"Thank you," she said.

Patrick just smiled at her before going outside to let Jack out and to see if Daisy would finally give milk while Teresa started to prepare breakfast as she wondered what true farm life would look like and if he would expect her to keep getting pregnant so he'd have a houseful of able-bodied workers to help him out with it.

She still didn't want to think about sharing her body and bed with him. Not when she was still having dreams about the man she was still in love with. She was still pretty sure that there wouldn't be anybody who could compete with Walter Mashburn.

Not even somebody with Hollywood good looks and who was willing to take care of her child, no questions asked.

She just hoped Patrick would be able to understand how she felt. Even though a nagging voice in the back of her mind told her that if the shoe were on the other foot, she probably wouldn't be as understanding as she wanted him to be.

Teresa looked out the window and saw Patrick playing with Jack, instead of trying to milk Daisy. She had an image of him playing with her child and she looked away, starting to crack eggs to scramble into a bowl. She hoped she would be done entertaining thoughts about him and Walter and everything else for the rest of the day.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**I hate everything about this chapter but then again, I am hating **_**everything **_**right now. I am completely out of sorts and I don't know why. I'm sorry this chapter was so short, I was going to write the whole Walter/Teresa saga in one go but then I realized I wanted it to be a little bit spread out and to spare you an information overload. I hope you'll tell me what you think of this. One week until my sister's bacherlotte party. **

**Apologizes in advance if I don't have a chapter for you next week.**

**Love,**

**Holly, 4/10/2015_**


	5. Chapter 5

**Shout-outs: missgoldrad, 45, juliaasunio, Azcur, Kathinka, devilscherry, Guest, Guest, NANNETTE, thommo75, Dutchie, Sentimentalista, Eldanar, MartyMac49 and Jane Doe51**

**Author's Note: **

**Sorry for the mistakes in this. I'm sort of drugged up at the moment, I got stung on my bottom lip by something on Tuesday and I had a terrible allergic reaction. When I woke up on Wednesday morning, my **_**whole **_**face had swelled up and I am still out of it.**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 5**

Patrick looked back at his house and sighed. They had almost been married for a week and she was still treating him like a stranger, like she didn't want anything to do with him. He understood, he wasn't the man she had fallen in love with, he wasn't the one that she really wanted. He had been in her shoes right before the United States had joined the war effort. He'd loved a girl.

Angela Ruskins.

They'd been planning on getting married, had been talking about it ever since they were little kids, he'd even given her a ring, bought with his hard-earned money from working nights at the sugar beet factory. He proposed to her at the drive-in and for a while, they were incredibly happy, planning their wedding and dreaming what life would be like when they were together all the time.

But then real life happened and their fairytale and come to an abrupt end, one day they had been engaged and the next, she'd given him back her engagement ring and followed her brother Tommy over to Europe after he had enlisted. She had been gone a month when he had received a letter from him, telling him things were truly over. She had met an injured soldier named Marcus Pike and she was going to marry him.

It had been the first of many devastating blows in his young life; he didn't know what had kept him from taking one of his father's guns and swallowing a bullet. Except for the people he loved so much around town and his living family. He couldn't bear the thought of Grace finding him and having to bury him, of leaving behind the family farm or his dog.

He looked towards his house and released a breath.

He was sure there were so many things that he and Teresa could bond over. He wished with all his heart that she would open up to him just a little bit, that she would allow him to open up to her. He wanted her to know that he _knew _to a degree what she was going through, to love somebody who was an ocean away.

To love somebody who didn't love you back anymore. Except for all he knew, this mysterious soldier could _still _love her and he was just biding his time until he could get back to her, get back to the states and start forging a life with her.

Patrick swallowed, wondering for a second what he would do if _that _happened, especially if he knew it would make her happy to be with the father of her child.

He was glad he didn't have to think about it yet.

He let Jack out of the barn instead of trying to milk the cow and chased him around the yard, when he looked up he saw Teresa looking at him through the kitchen window. He raised his hand and waved at her, she looked away like she was embarrassed to be caught watching him.

Or maybe it was something else.

Something he didn't know about.

He ducked his head and scratched Jack's ears, telling him what a good dog he was mostly to give himself something to do.

What seemed like an eternity later, Teresa stepped out on the porch and called him in for breakfast. He shooed his dog away and hurried to eat as fast as he could so their food wouldn't get cold. They sat down at the table at the same time and he looked at her as she dropped her napkin in her lap and bowed her head to silently bless her food.

He bowed his own head and started to pray aloud for their breakfast like his father had taught him when he was just a little boy. It had been a while since he'd prayed aloud; he lifted his eyes for a minute and saw Teresa was watching him, her eyes wide with astonishment. He quickly looked away and finished up, saying _amen_.

"You pray aloud?" She asked, instead of echoing his amen.

"You don't?"

"My father always said that prayers are personal, between you and God," Teresa answered.

Patrick shook his head. "That's not the way _I _heard it, prayers should be every bit as public as they are private."

Teresa pushed her breakfast around with her fork. "You don't struggle with your belief in God, do you?"

"Everybody struggles," Patrick replied. "You're just going through a stage right now. One day, you'll find your way back."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because one day, you're bound to forgive yourself."

"Don't pretend like you know me!" Teresa told him. "You don't know _one _single thing about me!"

"But I want to," Patrick answered. "I'm _trying_ to get to know you better. I don't want to be like two strangers living under the same roof! You might not want to be like husband and wife, but I at least want to be friends since we do have to live together for the rest of our lives."

Teresa got a far off look in her eyes and didn't answer him, instead she started to eat her breakfast with vigor and didn't even bother to try and make conversation with him, she didn't know how. She'd only had one serious relationship with a man in her twenty-five years of being alive and he had wrecked her for all other men.

Patrick knew it just by looking at her.

He felt all his hope leave him like a leaky balloon.

He would just have to adjust himself to being all alone with a woman in the house because even though he was trying his hardest, he was getting through to her like the way he wanted to. It was difficult.

He sat back in his chair and _really _observed her while she ate her breakfast.

"Patrick," she said, looking at him after a long moment. "Your food is getting cold. Aren't you hungry?"

"Oh. . . well, I don't know."

"You need to eat," Teresa told him. "You have a long day ahead of you and you need your strength. My mother always said that breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

"Yeah, mine did too," Patrick answered, picking up his fork and taking a bite of the omelet that was liberally laced with red and green peppers. "So, what's this?"

"A fiesta omelet," Teresa replied. "I found it in one of your mother's old cookbooks; I didn't want you to get tired of fried eggs and toast."

"Well, thank you for thinking about me. It's pretty good," Patrick said. "If not a little bit spicy."

"Yes, I know. . . you didn't have a lot of bell peppers in your garden," Teresa told him. "I'm sorry. . ."

"Its fine," Patrick assured her, reaching for his glass of water and gulping it down. "A little bit of spice never hurt anybody."

Teresa grimaced. "Sorry if it's too much for you."

"Is this one of those pregnancy cravings Grace was always telling me about?" Patrick asked as he pushed his plate away.

"I don't know," Teresa answered. "This is my first time being pregnant, but I don't seem to mind the spice as much as you do. Do you want me to make you something else to eat?"

"No, it's okay! Don't waste food on my account," Patrick said as he pulled his plate back to him. "I'll try and eat it."

She offered him a shy sort of smile that seemed to say thank you and sorry all at the same time. 

Patrick released a deep breath.

At least it was something.

At least it seemed like a start.

**TBC. . . **

**.**

**Author's Note II:**

**Let me apologize once again for the long delay in updating. My family has had a busy couple of weeks. Last Friday, my sister became a Mrs. her wedding was gorgeous, she was gorgeous. They are one of the loveliest couples. I will try to be more constant in updates now that life is settling down. Thank you for your patience and I am sorry for the brevity of this chapter. I just wanted to give you guys something after not posting in so long. **

**I will tell the rest of Walter's and Teresa's story soon. I wanted to fill in the gaps of Patrick's story though. And if you have read the book **_**Magic of Ordinary Days**_** then you know the story does jump around a little bit.**

**I hope you all will leave your thoughts with me about this story. I am looking forward to communing with you guys again. **

**All my love,**

**Holly, 5/1/2015_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Shout-Outs: AngryLittlePrincess, Azucar, Reooo, Caramelapple27, breath-of-spring, Lola Carvalho, juliasusino, Jane Doe51, MissDonnie, devilscherry, OTHGirl24, DaboGirl and Jade1511**

**juliasusino, darling, if you have read any of my other stories from the past six years then you know that I despise Walter Mashburn and would **_**never**_** get Lisbon with him. Have patience, it will end with Jane and Lisbon as a couple!**

**Rated: T **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my mistakes. **

**.**

**Chapter 6**

She had been in California for a month and Patrick's plan to get the farm up and running was going better than he had expected. In a year, he expected to have it restored to its former glory, the way it had been when he had been a little boy.

Teresa had slipped easily into the role of supportive wife just like her mother had taught her by example. She still thought about Walter every single day though and wished he would write her to let her know what he thought about their child.

She knew he was busy though and that the life of a soldier was unpredictable, so she tried not to think about it too much or what had happened between them the night they'd conceived their child. But it was hard to forget. . .

It had been the night before he had to ship out. They'd gone to see _Gaslight _at the movie theater and afterwards he'd taken her dancing again, the newest Bing Crosby hit was playing and he had kissed her underneath the dim lights.

It wasn't their first kiss but it was different from all the other ones. It had been more passionate, more instant. Gone were the chaste kisses, the ones that said he respected her and cherished her. They had been replaced with demanding kisses that spoke of desire so intense; it felt like she was going to burn up from wanting him.

"Come to my hotel room," he had whispered, his voice laced with craving and devotion.

"Anything you want," Teresa had replied, eager to please him, to give him something to remember her by before he left for Europe. She had wanted to give him something to come home to.

They left before the dance had ended.

In his hotel room, with nothing but the moon for their light, he had expertly removed her dress, her shoes, her stockings and her underwear, like he wasn't a stranger to entertaining women.

For her part, she had been clumsy and uncertain, almost embarrassed when he revealed her nudity and even more so when she saw his until he started to kiss and caress her. Suddenly, the little girl was gone and a woman had been born in her place.

She hated herself for the pleasure she felt, she still wanted to be the grieving daughter. It hadn't been long enough to feel loved, to feel happy like she had. But it was what it was and as she drifted off to sleep, she was sure her mother wouldn't want her to feel bad the rest of her life.

In the wee small hours of the morning, he woke her up with kisses trailing down her jawline and she gladly gave herself to him a second time. When it was over, it was time for him to go. She collected her clothes and got dressed, feeling nothing but pride when she realized that he was watching her while he was getting dressed.

"I'll walk with you," Teresa said as she had pinned on her hat and applied a fresh coat of lipstick.

Walter shook his head. "I want to remember you like this. Not weepy and heartbroken because we have to part."

"You will write to me?" Teresa checked.

"Only if you write me first," Walter answered, coming to her and pulling her to his chest, giving her a kiss worthy of the silver screen.

"_I promise!" _Teresa replied breathlessly, his having to go was the only thing from making her drop her dress and bringing him back to bed.

"Well, I'll write then."

He finished dressing and then he kissed her goodbye, sending her out the back way so there was no chance for scandal if the minister's daughter was caught leaving a soldier's room. It was too late to go home, so Teresa went to Kim's house. She needed to be able to tell a half-truth if her father asked where she had been all night.

She didn't know then that her life was about to change forever.

**.**

"You're breakfast is getting cold.

Teresa blushed when she realized where her mind had wandered off to. "Oh. . . right," she answered, picking her fork up and forcing down a bite of her buttermilk pancake.

"I hope they were good memories," Patrick said, sipping his coffee and observing her.

"They were," Teresa assured him.

If Patrick wanted to ask what they were about, he was respectful and didn't. He dragged his last little bit of pancake through the leftover maple syrup and wolfed it down. "Are you ready for your doctor's appointment?"

"Yes," Teresa answered, thankful for the change of subject. "Do you mind if we stop at the post office afterwards?"

"If you'd like to," Patrick replied. "Grace and Wayne invited us for supper tonight because the kids have been asking for you."

"For _me_?" Teresa asked in surprise.

"They _love_ having an aunt," Patrick told her. "And you're going to be the only aunt that they ever have."

"Wayne must have siblings."

"Wayne's an only child," Patrick said. "His father left him and his mother right after he was born. He knows his father, but the man is in and out of his life, he's not a very good person. A drunk, a womanizer."

"Oh." Teresa laughed ruefully. "I guess Wayne and I have a lot we could talk about. But at least my father wasn't absent like _that _though."

Patrick shook his head. "But he didn't act like a father should."

Teresa knew it was true, he _had_ been absent when should have been present and he had preached at her and damned her when he should have loved and supported her. She had heard from him after she'd been gone for two weeks, he'd called her at the Minelli's house to see if she'd gotten there safely, but it had been too little, too late. And even then, there wasn't caring behind it. All he had wanted to see is if she had done what he had told her to.

She'd invited him out to California, to meet his son-in-law, to see for himself that she was still honoring his wishes. But he'd declined her invitation to visit and asked to speak to Virgil, like he couldn't trust his wayward daughter's word.

Teresa smiled weakly. "You're right."

"You don't have to worry; I'm going to be a good father."

"I know," Teresa answered.

**.**

The appointment went well. Everything was going along exactly the way it should and the new doctor promised to keep her secret about the baby's due date, an early baby to most of the people in town because they didn't know the actual reason behind Teresa and Patrick's rushed nuptials.

Teresa filled Patrick in on her appointment on the way to the post office.

Like usual, there weren't any letters waiting for her. Disappointed, she turned around and went back outside, still trying to justify his not keeping his promise to her. Even though she knew that men of honor kept their word, no matter what.

**.**

Dinner at the Rigsby's was a lively affair. Their stoic handyman, Kimball was celebrating his birthday, so there was wacky cake (a way to have chocolate cake without breaking into their rations) and some sort of casserole that turned Teresa's stomach just by looking at it, a first for her in her pregnancy.

Grace, no stranger to morning sickness hitting at any time of the day, steered her sister-in-law away from the dinner and to the living room where Maddie and Ben were making birthday pictures for Kimball with a handful of stubby crayons and scraps of paper. Maddie immediately abandoned her card and climbed up in Teresa's lap to give her a hug and a kiss.

"Hi Auntie Reese!" She said cheerfully.

"Hello Maddie," Teresa replied, returning her kiss. "Hi Ben."

Ben popped up and grinned at her. "Hi! I hope you're going to have a boy!"

"_Benjamin!"_ Grace called from the kitchen.

"Ooops. I wasn't supposed to talk about it," Ben said, smiling like he wasn't sorry at all.

"Its fine," Teresa assured him, quickly changing the subject. "So, what are you working on there?"

Ben, eager to show off his drawing, handed it to her and beamed when she made comments of approval.

**.**

"You're going to be a natural," Grace told her after they'd sang Happy Birthday and the last of the Wacky Cake had been devoured.

It was just the two of them because Kimball had disappeared, embarrassed by the attention and Wayne had put the kids to bed. Patrick had gone with them because Maddie and Ben had insisted on one of his famous stories.

"A natural what?" Teresa asked as she inconspicuously unbuttoned the first two buttons on her snug skirt.

"A natural _mother_!" Grace answered. "I heard you with my kids earlier."

"We'll see."

Patrick appeared then, cutting the conversation short when he cautiously touched her on her shoulder and asked her if she were ready to go. Teresa nodded and got to her feet, thanking Grace for dinner and hugging her.

Something in the back of her mind told her this is what family really looked like. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, she wasn't going to cry especially not in front of Patrick and Grace because she still didn't know them, she couldn't let them see the most intimate parts of her heart.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

**.**

She lay in bed that night, going over every single second of that fateful night with Walter Mashburn all over again and about the lack of the letters he had promised to write to her but hadn't.

For a second, she thought maybe he wasn't the person he had said he was. But she pushed the thought away and defended him to herself again just like she had been doing for the past ninety days.

Because there had to be a logical explanation for his sudden disappearance.

There just had to be.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**The reason this chapter is three days late is because it refused to be written. Every time I sat down to write it, I couldn't get my thoughts down the way I wanted to. I'm sorry for the delay in posting, I tried to have it finished for Friday night but sometimes you can't control stories and I didn't want to let it control me.**

**I'll try and have chapter 7 ready for Friday though, I promise! **

**Until Next Time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 5/11/2015_**


	7. Chapter 7

**Shout-outs: Grumpy Insomniac, devilscherry, AngryLittlePrincess, Jane Doe51, OTHGirl24, MissDonnie and make-mine-a-kiaora**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 7**

Teresa groaned inwardly as she realized her party dress didn't fit her properly anymore. She couldn't quite get the buttons on her midsection. She wiggled out of the dress in dismay and tossed it on her bed as she put her skirt and blouse back on. It was snug but it was still comfortable. She realized with embarrassment that she was going to need to ask Grace to help her with maternity clothes.

Patrick poked his head in the bedroom. "Ready to go?"

Teresa finished buttoning her blouse and pulled on a gray sweater. "Yes. Except, I don't think I want to go."

Patrick frowned. "Why not?"

She motioned to the dress on the bed. "I'm going to be the only one wearing my everyday clothes. I can't get into that stupid dress!"

"Oh Teresa, it's _fine_!" Patrick hurried to assure her. "Most people haven't purchased a nice dress in years because of the war. So, they'll most likely be wearing their Sunday best and even if they are wearing something a little dressier, it'll be terribly out of fashion. Besides, nobody will be looking at your clothes. Tonight is about raising money for the war effort. So, if anybody makes a comment about the way you're dressed it's on them. Not on you."

Teresa smiled bravely at him as she applied her red lipstick. "You're so sweet to me, Patrick."

_I don't deserve you, _she thought to herself as she rubbed her lips together and capped her tube of lipstick.

_Now where did that come from? _She asked herself as she slipped her feet into her Saddle shoes tied them and pulled her socks up a little bit.

"I don't know why you're so worried," Patrick said as they took the stairs together. "You look _lovely_ tonight."

"You always say that."

"It's always true."

Teresa shook her head as she waited for him to close the screen door. "You're just being nice."

"No, you just don't know how lovely you are," Patrick answered, helping her into the truck.

"My father never told me how pretty I was, he said vanity is a sin."

"Well, I don't disagree with him but just because you tell somebody how pretty they are doesn't automatically make you vain and I think you know that."

Teresa looked out the window as he pulled away from the farm and sighed. "You're right."

"You deserve to hear just how lovely you are every single day."

_That's what got me into this mess to begin with, _Teresa thought but didn't say it aloud because she was still stubbornly keeping secrets from him. Instead she smiled and looked at him. "Thank you," she answered.

**.**

Patrick was right, except for Lorelei Martins, nobody was terribly dressed up for the dance. They'd all come out in their Sunday best and even Lorelei's dress wasn't brand new, the once bright red satin had turned deep red over the past few years of wear.

Grace came over to them when they entered the church social hall and gave them both kisses on the cheek in way of greeting.

"Hello Grace," Teresa said.

"Hey!" Grace answered cheerfully. "I hope you came ready to dance!"

Patrick shook his head as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and handed her a five dollar bill. "About that. . ."

"Oh come on Patrick! You _love _to dance!" Grace protested. "Why wouldn't you dance tonight?"

Patrick glanced at Teresa. "Well. . ."

"Don't not dance on my account," Teresa said.

"Are you sure?" Patrick asked, still looking at her uncertainly.

"I might even dance with you," Teresa answered, feeling as bold as she had the night she'd first met Walter.

"Really?"

"Why not?" Teresa replied, grinning. "I've never heard that it's sinful to dance with your own husband. Besides I'm already in enough 'trouble' as it is. How much more trouble could I get into?"

Grace looked startled and Patrick laughed. Teresa felt an overwhelming sense of pleasure wash over her, in her short courtship with Walter, she had never been able to make him laugh and there was something about her husband laughing at her joke that felt _good_.

The live band from one town over started to play and Wayne came to collect his wife for the first dance.

May Minelli came over and gave Patrick her best smile. "Unless you're otherwise engaged, would you mind dancing with me?" she asked. "Lorelei seems to have commandeered my husband."

Patrick looked at Teresa, who nodded encouragingly, and then smiled at May in return as he took her hand. "Actually May, I do believe they're playing our song."

An older gentleman that Teresa hadn't met yet came up to her. "I'm Brett Stiles. The town sheriff, you're the new Mrs. Jane, aren't you?"

"I am," Teresa answered.

"I noticed you aren't dancing," Sheriff Stiles said. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?"

"Yes, of course!" Teresa replied because everybody else was dancing and she wasn't under her father's thumb anymore, it wasn't his business what she did. The only people she had to answer to was God, her husband and maybe Reverend Minelli when she finally joined his congregation.

The song ended and the sheriff brought her back to her husband. Patrick smiled at her as she sat down.

"I thought the only person the Sheriff liked around here was Grace," he said.

"He was just being friendly," Teresa answered as a popular Bing Crosby song from a couple of years ago started to play.

Patrick looked thoughtful for a moment and then held out his hand to Teresa. "How about dancing with your husband?"

"To _this _song?" Teresa asked.

"Why not?"

Teresa didn't answer, there was no way she could explain why she didn't want to dance with him to this particular song. A song where the singer was asking the person it was written for to be careful with their heart. She didn't want to believe that he'd already given her heart, she knew she certainly couldn't be trusted with such a treasure. Not when she loved somebody else, she was liable to break his.

"I'll dance with you," Teresa said instead, getting to her feet and allowing him to sweep her to the dance floor.

It was the first time he had really touched her since they'd gotten married. He was so tender, like he was afraid she would break if he held her too tightly. She looked up at him and saw he had closed his eyes. She looked away quickly, embarrassed at catching him in such an intimate moment even though it was with her.

With the sound of his heartbeat close to her ear and the way he was holding her so gently, she considered how he was a different man from the one she loved. He had never used a single line on her, he was completely sincere with her.

She found herself wondering what would have happened if she'd met him instead of meeting Walter, if he had been the one she had decided to gift with her heart, with her body. . . her soul.

Would she even be in the predicament she was in? Or would she have waited for another time and place to consummate their relationship? Because maybe just being with him and holding hands would have been enough for her.

Or maybe, she would have still but they would have set up a little yellow house with a white picket fence and a dog.

Kind of like the life she was living now but then, she wouldn't have been exiled to California.

The song ended and Teresa pulled away, ready to sit the next one out but Patrick wouldn't let her go.

There was a part of her, much to her dismay, that didn't really want him to let her go.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**I feel like I am coming up with more and more excuses for why I am not posting when I should. But I do have real reasons, it isn't because I am being lazy or being a review Natzi or anything like that. Yesterday's excuse was a dinner party that my mom was hosting for the other people who helped out with my sister's wedding and didn't get gifts. I was busy all day cooking and cleaning for it. So, I apologize for the delay.**

**Another time jump next week, but nothing too crazy, I don't think.**

**Until Next Time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 5/16/2015_**


	8. Chapter 8

**Shout-Outs: breath-of-spring, Azucar, Kathinka (for all her reviews), KatariJisbon, Rosepeony, Jane Doe51, OTHGirl24, Isellen, AngryLittlePrincess, and MartyMC49 **

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 8**

She was softening towards him, he could tell.

Allowing him to dance with her was the biggest step she had taken in their relationship, until the fundraising dance she hadn't even allowed him to touch her. So, dancing was _something_, he had to believe that. He didn't want to live the rest of his married life without at least being able to touch without her recoiling in disgust, or not allowing it at all.

He smiled to himself as he got ready to milk his new cow and hummed the song they had danced to under his breath. He was as happy as a lark; he only wished there were people around to see it.

To see that he was falling in love with his wife.

He hadn't thought it would be possible to fall in love for a second time after Angela had left him. He hadn't counted on meeting a girl who would change his mind. He wished she could feel the same way about him right away, but he was willing to give her time to adjust to him. For the first bud of love to blossom like new flowers in the spring.

And spring always came, no matter how hard the winter had been.

It was one of the things he could count on the most.

That is why he knew without a doubt; Teresa Lisbon would fall in love with him one day. He wasn't cocky, just confident that his patient persistence would win out in the end.

He finished his chores outdoors and went inside, still feeling like he was floating on cloud 9. Teresa was not oblivious to his good mood; she almost smiled when she saw him.

"Did you sleep well last night, Patrick?"

"Perfectly," Patrick answered. "How about you?"

"I didn't sleep that well," Teresa admitted. "But I haven't slept very well since my mother. . ."

Patrick sobered up quickly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be! It isn't your fault!" Teresa assured him as she set breakfast down in front of him and changed the subject. "I hope you like buttermilk pancakes."

"They're one of my favorite things to eat."

"Good. They're one of my specialties." Teresa sat down and looked at him expectantly; they had fallen into the habit of taking turns saying grace before each one of their meals. Today it was his turn.

Patrick folded his hands and blessed the food, thanking God for it. Teresa added her amen when he was finished and the two of them started breakfast while he filled her in on what he was going to do for the day and she asked him if she could use the truck, because Grace was going to give her some maternity clothes.

He told her it was okay because he was going to be staying around the farm anyways because he was going to start cleaning out the front yard like she had asked him to, so she could put flowers in.

He was happy to do it for her because making the yard beautiful meant she was planning on staying with him long term.

They finished their breakfast and she washed dishes while he went outside to start pulling the tall weeds out from the ground and start tilling the soil. She came out soon afterwards, keys in her hands.

"If I'm not back by lunch, I made you a sandwich and put it in the icebox," Teresa told him. "I should be home in time to make supper though."

"Okay. Have a good time with Grace."

"Thank you," Teresa answered. "I'll see you later."

Patrick smiled and nodded as he waved. "Okay, goodbye."

"'Bye," Teresa replied, smiling in a way that caused Patrick's heart to do a joyful flip that all the biofeedback in the world could not contain.

**.**

Teresa came back wearing a different dress than the one she had left in.

"Grace was too generous," she told Patrick as he helped her out of the truck and took out the bundles from the front seat. "I think she gave me clothes for every trimester or at least every single season."

"You never know what you'll need here, the weather is unpredictable," Patrick told her. "You'll be thankful for the options, believe me."

"I'll take your word for it," Teresa said. "If you'll put those in my bedroom, I'll go start dinner."

"Okay," Patrick agreed.

Teresa looked around the yard and smiled in appreciation. "I like what you've done out here so far."

"It'll be better once you start to actually plant a garden and put flowers in," Patrick said,

"I hope so."

Patrick shuffled the packages around in his arms and managed to open the screen door for her, holding it open with his backside while she thanked him and went inside. She took her apron from the peg and tied it around her waist.

"What do you feel like having tonight, Patrick?" She asked.

Patrick shrugged. "Whatever'll be fine."

"I'll see what I can find," Teresa replied, opening the icebox and starting to go through the contents while he went to put her borrowed clothes upstairs for her.

She was cutting up vegetables for stew when he came back to the kitchen.

"Evening chores," Patrick said when she looked up at him as he passed her.

She nodded. "Take your time; it's going to be a while before dinner is ready."

"Maybe I'll come back and help," Patrick answered. "If you'd like."

Teresa smiled. "It's okay. This is a one cook in the kitchen kind of meal."

"Ah yes, the inevitable too many cooks spoil the stew sort of thing, right?"

Teresa nodded. "Exactly. If you're done with your chores before dinner is ready, you should take some time to relax. Do some reading or something; you've been working extremely hard lately."

"Well, I do have a family to provide for now," Patrick told her.

Teresa's smile faded and she turned her attention back to slicing carrots without replying. Patrick hesitated, wanting to say something else to her about it but deciding against it. He was still going to give her space, allow her to get used to the idea that they were a family. She just needed time.

He was still certain that she would come around soon.

Until then he was going to be a persistent lover.

**.**

Teresa didn't look up from slicing vegetables until she heard the screen door close. She dropped the knife and rubbed her temples.

She was slipping.

Letting her guard down.

Letting _him _in.

And she hadn't even realized it. It wasn't the way things were supposed to go. They weren't supposed to be friendly like this, she didn't know how it had happened and it was too late to retrace her steps, to go back to the way things were. She could at least halt it in its tracks and not let it go any further than it already had.

It was the only way to protect herself from getting hurt.

To protect her sweet husband from getting his heartbroken by her because there was no way she could ever love him the way he deserved.

Or even at all.

She would keep telling herself this until the death did them part.

If only she could make him see that it was never going to happen without hurting his feelings then she would be able to be peaceful. But there was no way it was going to happen. She just couldn't make him see it, he was filled to the brim with a boyish exuberance and there was no way it was going to go away anytime soon.

Or ever.

Teresa wondered if she was ever going to be able stop wishing that she could go back to the very beginning and do things over again.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**Another short chapter, I know and I am sorry for it but I felt as if I had continued then the chapter would have been completely lost. At least the chapter is on time for the first time in weeks. I give myself credit for **_**that**_**. Please tell me what you thought of this chapter and if you are in the United States, have a safe and very happy Memorial Day weekend. **

**Until Next Time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 2/22/2015_**


	9. Chapter 9

**Shout-outs: Guest, Guest, juliasusino, OTHGirl24, isellen, Guest, AngryLittlePrincess, Genia, and Jane Doe51 **

**Guest: What did you mean by push it out Barbra?**

**Author's Note:**

**This chapter is brought to you in part by my late night reflux and **_**angrylittleprincess**_**, but mostly my late night reflux. **

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 9**

Late in September, Teresa got a visit from her friend Kim. She came in a cloud of new perfume and red lipstick, and a department store dress, making Teresa feel terribly frumpy in comparison. But at the same time, she was happy to see an old friend; it felt like they had been apart for a year.

"I have news!" Kim said as they embraced.

"Oh?" Teresa asked, standing back to look at her.

"I'm engaged!" Kim told her, waving her left hand in the air, the diamond catching in the fading sunlight.

"Oh! Oh, how nice for you!" Teresa said quickly. "Who is it Kim? Is it somebody that I know?"

"No," Kim replied. "We met at the dance hall; he just got off a tour of duty. It was love at first sight! He has millions and he doesn't want to marry the girl his mother has chosen for him in South Carolina."

"Do you know what you're getting yourself into?" Teresa asked anxiously as she brought Kim into the kitchen and got to Cokes from the icebox.

"I know as much as you did when you came here to California to marry somebody you _didn't _even know from Adam," Kim answered. "Speaking of which, he _is _treating you well, isn't he?"

"Yes!" Teresa replied. "I couldn't have asked God for a better situation if I had thought about."

"Good!" Kim said, looking satisfied. She hesitated slightly. "Have you heard from Walter?"

"No. No I haven't heard from Walter since that night," Teresa answered.

"Maybe you're better off without him."

"I love him."

"Oh Reese," Kim said, shaking her head. "Do you even know what real love is?"

Teresa looked offended. "I think so."

"I don't think real love looks like _this_," Kim told her. "He said he'd write to you but he's been gone three months and you haven't heard a single word from him. I'm sure you told him that you were having his child. Didn't you?"

"Well, of course. . . he's the father, he has a right to know."

Kim drew a deep breath. "Well? Where is he then?"

"He has a duty to our country," Teresa tried to explain.

"He had a duty to you _too_!" Kim informed her. "I think you're better off forgetting that you ever met him."

"I can't just forget we ever met."

"Well then, try to press forward. Move on and make a life with this new man in your life. At least he's here, at least he's _invested_!" Kim said. "I wish I had never brought you with me that night. Maybe you would have never been in this situation if I hadn't forced you to come with me."

"You're blaming yourself for my predicament?" Teresa asked, half-laughing. "You didn't force me into his bed, Kimberly. I went there on my own free will. If it hadn't been Walter, it might have been another soldier. You have no idea what state of mind I was in when I was with him."

"No. No, you're right I don't know what your state of mind was when you met Walter," Kim agreed. "But you never told me what you were thinking or how you were feeling either."

Teresa paused, Kim was right. They had never talked about how she was feeling, what she was thinking. But still, it hadn't been her friend's fault that she had done what she had done. Kim had just been trying to be a good friend by bringing her to the dance hall that night; she had been trying to get her out of her head.

Teresa couldn't fault her for that.

Even though it would have been easy to.

Teresa sighed and smiled, changing the subject. "Patrick should be in soon."

"Good. I want to meet him."

"I think you'll like him," Teresa said.

"Well, I think I'll _have _to like him," Kim answered. "He rescued you, didn't he?"

Teresa shrugged, she had never really thought about it that way before, but she realized Kim was right. She had needed rescuing and Patrick had swooped in and saved her from shame and public ridicule.

In retrospect, it wasn't fair to either of them and she longed for the day where a woman could have a baby out of wedlock without a man having to come in and make it look good for her. She wrapped her hands around the Coke bottle and wondered if there would ever be such a day.

The door opened and Patrick came in on a trail of dust and dirt. "I didn't know you had company," he said.

Teresa looked up. "Oh, I didn't know we were going to have company either! Kim surprised me."

"Kim?" Patrick asked.

"I can see she's told you so much about me," Kim said, smiling inspite of herself.

"Teresa hasn't told me much of anything," Patrick admitted ruefully. "I'm sorry."

"Patrick, this is my best friend from Chicago, Kimberly Fisher. Kim, this is my husband Patrick Jane," Teresa jumped in.

"I'd shake your hand, but I'm a little dirty right now," Patrick said apologetically.

"Oh, I'm not afraid of a little dirt!" Kim answered brazenly as she stood up and took his hand, shaking it firmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you Patrick."

"Same with you," Patrick replied, glancing at Teresa. "Well, I'll just go and get cleaned up now and leave you ladies to your visit."

"I'll start dinner," Teresa told him.

"Take your time."

"The way he looks at you!" Kim said when Patrick was out of earshot.

"Oh?" Teresa asked innocently. "I've never noticed anything about the way he looks at me."

"Well, he certainly doesn't look at you the way Walter used to. Walter kind of leered, Patrick looks at you like he loves and cherishes you."

"He doesn't love me!" Teresa protested. "He _can't_! We barely know each other!"

"Well, I call it like I see it."

"You never told me that Walter _leered _at me!" Teresa replied.

"Would you have listened if I did?"

Teresa shook her head, she had been so wrapped up in all the attention that he'd showered on her, she probably wouldn't have listened to anybody if they had outright told her that he was bad news.

"No, you're right, I _wouldn't_ have listened to you," Teresa admitted. "But Patrick _doesn't _look at me like he's in love with me!"

"Get your head out of the sand, sweetheart," Kim said. "He's got it bad. I think you know it and you won't admit it to yourself because you still think you're in love with Walter."

"I _am_!" Teresa insisted.

"You keep telling yourself that," Kim replied. "But one day you're going to wake up and Patrick will still be here while Walter is God knows where, doing God knows what."

"You don't know that."

"I know you're never going to see him again," Kim answered. "What's wrong with you Reese? Patrick is way cuter than Walter is."

"Oh and looks are everything?"

"You know as well as I do that they _aren't_, but they sure do help."

"With what?" Teresa asked stupidly.

"You know," Kim said with a grin.

"Oh, _that's_ not going to happen!"

"Right. Because it'll be very hard to resist an attractive man, Mrs. Jane."

Teresa blushed. "Will you be quiet Kimberly?"

"Oh, I forgot. You don't talk about _that_, do you?"

"Have a little propriety," Teresa answered.

Kim laughed. "You're still the same girl that I know and love."

Teresa got up and rummaged through the ice box to find something to make for dinner. "What would have changed? _Why _would anything have changed?"

Kim smirked and didn't answer her.

Teresa shook her head and rolled her eyes at her friend to show her how annoying she found her. But Kim didn't seem to notice or care.

"What about you?" Teresa asked boldly.

"What about me?"

"Have you ever. . . well, you know."

"Of course, ever since I was a teenager," Kim replied.

"Then why have you never. . .?"

"I don't know, I'm lucky, I guess."

"Oh."

Kim took a sip of her Coke. "Hey, why don't you and Patrick come to Charleston for my wedding in two weeks?"

"Patrick runs a farm, he can't just drop everything on a whim," Teresa answered regretfully.

"I'm sure he would let you come," Kim said.

"I'm sure he would," Teresa agreed.

"Then you should come. After I'm done visiting you, I'm going to Charleston. You can come with me, stay and be my right hand woman while I try to adjust to my new life."

Teresa shook her head. "As much as I'd love to, I don't know if I can."

"If you're concerned about the money, I'll pay your way. I have money to burn now."

"It isn't the money," Teresa assured her. "My father is still checking in with Reverend Minelli once a week to make sure I'm doing exactly as he says."

"You're not a Lisbon anymore," Kim told her. "You need to start living your own life without fear of your father's reaction. Come on, please. I'll be lost without you."

Teresa smiled. "I don't know you've been doing pretty well without me so far."

"There's nothing I can say to convince you to come with me then?"

"I'm sorry," Teresa answered. "But you and your new husband are _always _welcome here."

"And you and your husband will always be welcome in South Carolina. I don't care what anybody says!" Kim replied.

**.**

Kim left two days later with promises to write once a week when the wedding was over and she was settled into her new home.

Teresa watched from the porch as her friend drove away, off to a more glamorous life than the one she would ever lead on a farm in California. It was the lives they both had always been meant to live.

A housewife and an heiress.

For a split second, she wished their roles were reversed. But she knew it wasn't fair to wish an unplanned pregnancy and a marriage of necessity on anybody, least of all her best friend. So, she banished the thought far away and went back to her new life like nothing had ever happened.

That night, her baby kicked for the first time, alerting her to his or presence in the world. Teresa rested her hand on her abdomen as tears welled up in her eyes; she started to cry completely overwhelmed by her circumstances.

Patrick came in, dressed in navy blue pajamas and looking concerned. "Is everything okay Teresa?" he asked gently.

Teresa turned her back to him, ashamed of her tears and of her sin. "I sold my life away just to be held," she told him, sniffing.

"Oh Teresa. . ." Patrick said as he entered her room and sat on the edge of her mattress. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Oh Teresa, it isn't that bad, everything's going to be okay. You'll see."

She wanted to believe him.

But she wasn't so sure.

**TBC. . . **

**.**

**Author's Note II:**

**This isn't exactly the chapter where everything comes to a head but we're pretty close to the you-know-what hitting the fan. I'd actually say we're one chapter away from that and it isn't going to be pretty. I'll tell you in advance, this is the last appearance Kim makes. I have a head canon where she **_**does **_**keep her promise and write letters to Teresa every week after she is married and settled in her mansion in Charleston. Her husband is good to her, they don't have any children and for their summer vacation, Patrick and Teresa **_**do **_**visit with them for a couple of weeks. **

**I hope you'll tell me what you thought of this chapter.**

**Until Next Time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 5/23/2015_**


	10. Chapter 10

**Shout-outs: reeseishere, Kathinka (for chapter 8 and 9), Caramelapple27, MartyMC49, Guest, KatariJisbon, Nelapl, devilscherry, breath-of-spring, OTHGirl24, Azucar, AngryLittlePrincess, Jane Doe51 and isellen**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 10**

It happened on the first very cold day in November. It looked like it was going to snow, so Teresa had brought Jack inside because she couldn't stand the thought of the poor dog outside in the freezing barn all night long.

Patrick came in from his day in town and set the groceries down on the table. "Dogs aren't supposed to be inside," he said instead of greeting her.

"It's frigid outside!" Teresa protested.

But Patrick was having none of it. Her usually sweet and kind husband swept past her and yanked Jack to his paws. When he came back inside, he pulled an envelope out of his pocket and shoved it into her hands without even looking at her.

"I'll be outside doing chores and then I have to do a shift at the beet factory," he told her as he slammed the door behind him.

Teresa frowned and looked down at the envelope in her hand. Instead of her weekly letter from Kim, this one was written in slanted handwriting that she didn't recognize, except for a postmark from an Army base in London.

She sat down and with shaking hands; she slowly tore open the envelope. She had waited so long to hear from him, she didn't know what to expect anymore. Certainly not a declaration of undying love. . . but she read ahead anyway, her throat constricting with every single word. She pushed it away and got to her feet; finishing a dinner that only one person would eat.

Teresa didn't sleep that night; she sat on the middle step of the staircase, waiting for Patrick to get home from the beet factory.

When he finally crept in around five the next morning, he had Jack by his side. He didn't see her sitting there, waiting for him until she stood, the staircase creaking as she did. She clutched the railing with one hand and rested her hand on her expanding belly with the other.

"Patrick. . ."

"I'm sorry for getting upset with you last night," Patrick said as he mounted the stairs to go and get changed. "It was uncalled for."

"Were you upset about the letter?" Teresa asked, pushing her hair away from her face and looking at him seriously.

Patrick didn't look at her; he shuffled his feet and tried to continue up to his bedroom. "Really, that letter is none of my business," he answered.

Teresa laughed. "He said it wasn't his."

"I'm sorry?"

"The baby," Teresa clarified, her breath caught in her throat and she had to steady herself because she felt like she was going to fall forward. "He said that I am a terribly nice girl and he hopes I have a wonderful life but there was no way the baby was his."

Patrick turned to look at her and then he came closer. Teresa thought he was going to say he was sorry, to tell her everything was going to be okay. Instead, he brushed her hair away from her face, cupped her cheeks in his working hands and sighed; resting his forehead against her's for a fraction of a second.

He sighed again and then he kissed her. It wasn't a long or a passionate kiss. In fact it barely felt like it had even happened. His mouth was on her mouth and then it wasn't. When he pulled away, he looked at her with a wounded expression.

"Isn't there anything you like about me, Reese?" He asked.

Teresa's eyes welled with tears and this time, she was the one who couldn't even look at him. "Patrick. . ."

But he was gone before she could reply, taking the stairs two at a time. She heard the door close behind him and that's when her knees gave way. She settled on the stairs again and rested her head on her knees.

_Was _there anything she liked about him? She hadn't given it much thought up until he had posed the question for her.

Was there anything she liked about him?

She honestly didn't know. 

**.**

Grace came around noon to bring clothes for her next trimester. Teresa knew just by looking at her that her sister-in-law knew what had happened between them.

"I didn't mean to hurt him," Teresa said, wrapping her arms around her to try and ward off the chill that had taken up residence in her bones.

"When Patrick loves somebody, he loves them with all his heart," Grace replied.

_Love?_

It seemed like such a foreign concept to Teresa but she had known all along that it was headed in that direction.

"I'm sorry Grace. . ."

Grace shook her head and held a skirt up to Teresa. "He's been heartbroken before. I don't think he'll be able to handle another loss if you go."

"I'm not going anywhere! I don't have anywhere to go!" Teresa protested.

"Has he told you anything about his past?" Grace asked.

"Not much. I know about Harry and George and your parents. I know how he had to stay behind while everybody else he knew got to enlist and go away," Teresa answered.

"He was engaged before you two ever met. She went to Europe to be with her brother. She never came back; she met somebody else and married him. It was one thing after another and I was sure that I'd come over and find him dead. But then we got the letter that you needed help and he had purpose again." Grace wiped away a stray tear and stood up, taking Teresa's hand and squeezing it. "You brought him back to life."

Teresa felt physically ill; she realized she was crying too. "But Patrick never said anything."

"Maybe he didn't want to burden you with his troubles. Maybe you hadn't let him in enough to hear what he had to say," Grace said.

It was all true.

"It's too late," Teresa said, shaking her head.

"Never! It's _never _too late!" Grace answered.

"He probably hates me now."

"He's doesn't hate you, he's just hurting right now. He'll come around."

"Did he even tell you what I did?"

"It isn't any of my business," Grace answered.

"I wrote the father of my child!" Teresa blurted out. "More than I should have. I think Patrick got the wrong idea. That we were keeping up a secret correspondence. But last night was the first time I had heard from him since the last night we were together."

"Oh."

"I know I should have only written him the one time when I told him that I was having a baby," Teresa said hastily. "I was a blind fool. To think he really loved me, to think he wanted to be a part of our child's life. For all I know, he could be tempting another woman into his bed and not in Europe like he said."

"Don't be too unfair," Grace said.

Teresa shook her head. "I have committed so many sins since my mother died. But this is my worst one, to not be grateful for what I've been given. To throw it all away for the sake of another man who won't ever be half the person your brother is."

Grace covered Teresa's hand with her own. "Teresa, listen to me, you have to stop living in regret. It won't get you anywhere in life."

"It's easy for you to say, it isn't so easy for me to do."

"Have you even _tried _though?"

Teresa didn't answer her, she couldn't. Regret had become her security blanket; it had kept her safe from letting other people in. It had allowed her to hang onto Walter Mashburn as long as she had.

"I have to go," Grace said. "Wait and see, everything will work out in the end, it usually does."

Teresa saw her to the door and offered her a hug, which Grace willingly took, they held each other for a long time and she felt like a little child, clinging to her mother for comfort. It had been a while since she had been able to do _that_.

"Let go," Grace whispered as she released her and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

Teresa started to try.

**.**

Patrick came home late, looking worn out and a little sad. Teresa served him dinner and felt even more like a stranger to him than when they had first started to live together. She sat down next to him while he ate and tried to start to talk but the words got caught in her throat and she had to pause a couple of times, her face warming as she tried to form a sentence.

Finally she took a deep breath and released it, shaking slightly as she finally was able to talk to him.

"Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me?" She asked.

He looked at her. "There's nothing to forgive," he answered.

Teresa plunged on, unencouraged or oblivious to his response. "I was a foolish little girl when it came to Walter Mashburn. He made me promises that I thought he intended to keep. He was the first man who ever paid attention to me, he made me feel special. I wish I could go back and do it all over again."

"Don't say that. Don't ever say that."

Teresa looked startled. "Why not?"

"It's selfish of me," Patrick told her. "But if you hadn't gone to that dance hall and if you hadn't met him then we would have never been brought together."

"I wrote him the first time to tell him that he was going to be a father," Teresa said. "I kept on writing him because I hoped that one day I would finally hear back from him. Yesterday was the first time I had heard from him since the last night we spent together. I was never having an affair."

"Thank you for telling me," Patrick said.

"I think we would have still met," Teresa informed him. "Aristophanes said that humans originally had four arms, four legs, and a single head made of two faces. They "were said to have great strength and they were going to conquer the gods. Zeus developed a creative solution by splitting humans in half as punishment for humanity's pride and doubling the number of humans who would give tribute to the gods. These split humans were in utter misery to the point where they would not eat and would perish so Apollo had sewn them up and reconstituted their bodies with the navel being the only remnant harkening back to their original form. Each human would forever long for his or her other half; the other half of his or her soul. It is said that when the two find each other, there is an unspoken understanding of one another, that they feel unified and would lie with each other in unity and would know no greater joy than that."

She swallowed hard, wondering _why _she had even said that.

Patrick was smiling warmly at her. "Are you saying we're soul mates, _Mrs. Jane_?"

"_No!" _Teresa answered quickly. "But maybe I've realized that I've been less miserable since I got here. I just wasn't making the best of the situation like I should have been from the start."

Patrick took her hand and laced their fingers together. "I haven't been the least bit miserable since you've gotten here. Maybe we were looking for each other the whole time and the other people in our lives were the catalysts to get us to this point."

"How are you so sure we're meant to be here?"

"Because we _are _here."

"Let's start again," Teresa said. "Like we just met and we have a crush on each other. You can come to my house every day and we'll drink Coke and talk for a long time, like we can't get enough of each other. "

"Maybe I can't get enough of you," Patrick answered.

Teresa blushed.

"It isn't a line," he told her.

"I know," Teresa replied.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**So, maybe it wasn't as bad as I said it was going to be. I miscalculated the awfulness but I still hope you enjoyed this chapter, things are going to take a turn for the better now, I promise. Mashburn will not return (at least not in the way you expect) and things will start to go smashingly for Patrick &amp; Teresa. I hope you will stick around for the rest of the story. And that you will tell me what you thought of this chapter.**

**Until Next Time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 5/29/2015_**

**P.S**

**If I were to ever have my own fiction published, how many of you would be on board to actually read it or buy it? I'm asking because I have started to write a novel and am planning on making a full transition to fiction sometime in the foreseeable future. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Shout-outs: Azucar, juliasusino, breath-of-spring, Nelapl, Kathinka, AngryLittlePrincess, Dutchie, MartyMc49, FMR, reeseishere, Sen, joyototo, KatariJisbon, NANNETE, devilscherry, OTHGirl24, isellen, Marcia Santos, teacupsandstrawberries, Jane Doe51 and Guest**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Rated: T**

**.**

**Chapter 11**

Her husband was actually _dating _her.

After dinner was over and the dishes were washed, Patrick would make a show of knocking on their front door and asking to come in. Teresa would gladly let him and they would spend two hours in the living room, listening to the radio and drinking Cokes and talking.

And sometimes, if the song was right and it struck his fancy, Patrick would dance her around the living room while Frank Sinatra or Bing Crosby crooned a love song on the radio.

She told him things she hadn't even dared to write in her diary. Things her mother didn't even know about her and in return he shared details about his life with her. They got to know each other intimately and they didn't have to go to bed to do it.

Sometimes, Teresa found herself thinking about it and she would have to remind herself that it was still too soon. The hurt was still going away, she was still adjusting herself to being married to him and the feelings that were slowly awakening in her, like the first day of spring. And even if it wasn't, her rapidly growing belly would swiftly prevent anything from happening.

But there was the promise of _someday _for it to happen and it caused her abdomen to tighten in anticipation.

When she thought about these things, she forgot to be embarrassed. Because she knew that it said somewhere in the Bible that the marriage bed was holy and sanctified. There was nothing wrong with fearing the act, she wasn't the scared, ashamed, stubborn girl she was after she'd met Walter Mashburn.

A new girl was being born in her place.

She liked this new person a lot better.

One snowy Wednesday, on the eve of Thanksgiving, they were standing at the foot of the stairs drawing out their 'date' when he kissed her again. She quickly reciprocated, hearing music in her head and seeing fireworks and feeling the butterflies dancing around her stomach.

"Mr. Jane," Teresa whispered. "I do believe it's time that you started to sleep in a bed with your wife."

Patrick smiled at her and shook his head. "Do you mean it?" he asked.

"No funny business," Teresa replied, ducking her head to hide the flush on her cheeks.

"No funny business," Patrick agreed, pulling her up the stairs and to her bedroom. "I promise."

She fell asleep, curled up in his arms and under a pile of quilts the mother-in-law she would never get to know had made years ago. She felt safer than she ever had with his arms around her waist and his warm breath on her neck, in her ear. She drifted off to sleep in a matter of seconds and hoped he had too.

**.**

The next day, they made the trek to the Rigsby's farm to celebrate Thanksgiving with them. Teresa was introduced to a new tradition that she had only ever heard about from other people. Each and every person at the dinner table went around and said what they were thankful for.

Teresa's heart was warmed by the words spoken by her new family. Especially when Patrick, Maddie and Ben all said how thankful they were to have _her _in their life. When it was her turn, everybody looked at her expectantly.

She cleared her throat and looked at the faces of those around her. "I am so thankful for all of you," she said. "For taking me in and showing me love and what a real family looks like. I have never had that before in my whole entire life."

Patrick put his hand over her's and smiled at her. She smiled in return and hoped that he would never let go.

It was snowing again when they got home. Patrick let Jack come in with them for the night they both knew that the dog had found a permanent spot inside the house, it was a new set of rules for a new family.

They both didn't sleep until late that night, they laid next to each other in the dark and talked about what their new life would look life after the baby was born.

"I want to marry you again," Teresa told him as she laced her fingers through his, almost shocked at her forwardness. "I want to do it the right way this time. With rings and a cake and a first dance. Maddie can be the flower girl."

"I'd like that too," Patrick answered, turning on his side and looking at her.

Teresa leaned in and kissed him. He kissed her in return, still amazed that she was there with him and at the change in their relationship. He had only ever hoped that it would come to this, he had been afraid to imagine that it would because he had known heartache and he never wanted to face it again.

She pulled away after a second, touched his mouth with the tips of her fingers. "I love you," she breathed as she closed her eyes, relieved that it was out in the open.

Patrick's breath caught in his throat and for a second, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't form words. He didn't want to hesitate for too long even though he was sure that she knew he felt the same way. But he needed to say it aloud, he had kept it inside for too long as it was.

"I love you too."

In the dark he could make out the curve of her lips and the way they turned up in a cute little smile. He kissed her again, longer and more sensual than the last time. A promise of things to come, of everything he was feeling for her right in that moment, since the day he had first laid eyes on her at the train station looking scared and uncertain in red lipstick and a dress splashed with violets.

They had finally found each other, two lonely souls looking for their missing halves.

It was finally the beginning of their love story.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, there's probably one more chapter left in this story. At least that's the way I'm leaning right now. I have another plot in mind that I am SO looking forward to writing, another AU. . . I hope you will you join me for that journey. I am sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, I had a daddy date with my father last night (25 is not too old to go out with your father to an old movie theater that only shows one movie a week) and this week has been sort of a vacation week for me and my mother. We started to binge-watch Alias and we went on a couple shopping sprees. Back to real life next week, so I should have the chapter on Friday. Click on the box below and tell me what you thought, please!**

**Until Next Time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 6/6/2015_**


	12. Chapter 12

**Shout-outs: peanutbuttercookie, Azucar, MartyMC49, KatariJisbon, OTHGirl24, Jane Doe51, auntcj, Kathinka, isellen, Jade1511, Sen, Nelapl, Guest, AngryLittlePrincess, Guest and Reooo**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Rated: T (for adult situations at the end)**

**.**

**Chapter 12**

Walter Mashburn was dead.

Teresa got the news the week before Christmas. She had driven into town to purchase some gifts for her husband and his family when she got the news. Two men had come in from the war office to look for her. He was the last person that he had contact with, maybe she could get in touch with his family, they said, because he hadn't left any way for them to.

She looked at them in shock as she put down the scarf she had been looking at for Grace and shook her head. "I'm sorry but I don't know his family," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"I was just a silly girl he had a silly fling with," Teresa replied, placing her hand on her extended belly like she was sheltering her unborn child from the news. "I never met his parents, I didn't even know he had any living relatives. The last time I heard from Mr. Mashburn he told me that he didn't want to have anything to do with me or his unborn child."

"Oh."

There was a pause and one of the men shuffled his hat awkwardly in his hands, obviously ashamed by his fallen comrades actions. "I'm sorry," he told her.

Teresa shook her head. "It's fine. You didn't know."

"We need to find out a way to contact his family," the other officer said. "Merry Christmas Mrs. Jane."

"Merry Christmas," Teresa answered, watching as they walked away from her. "Oh, wait a second!" she called after them.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Could you tell me how he died?" Teresa asked, catching up with them.

The officers exchanged looks, asking each other silently if it would be okay to disclose such information to the woman standing in front of them. The chubbier one cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed.

"He didn't die honorably, if that's what you're askin'."

"Oh, I see."

She left the store to go for a walk, contemplating the brevity of Walter's life and if there would be anybody who would mourn him in his death. She was sorry that he was gone but only because of the life he had lived in the days leading up to his death. She wondered if there were any other girls like her out there. If they had fallen for his lies and his sweet temptation and if they had children on the way too or boys who reminded them of a missing lover every time their mother looked into their eyes.

She was so lost in thought she didn't notice her water had broken until Sheriff Stiles was helping her to her feet and telling her everything was going to be okay and asking her if she had noticed that she had gone into labor.

"I didn't," Teresa admitted. "My mind was a million miles away."

Stiles helped her to her feet and steadied her. "Come along, let's get you to the Minelli's house."

"Patrick. . ." Teresa said, trailing off helplessly.

"Don't worry, once I get you comfortable I'll go and get him for you," Stiles assured her.

"Thank you," Teresa answered as he helped her into his truck and drove to the parsonage.

He escorted her to the front door and knocked urgently. May opened the door and frowned when she saw the pair standing on her front porch.

"Is everything okay Sheriff?" She asked. "Teresa isn't in any kind of trouble is she?"

"She's perfectly fine," Stiles answered. "Although, I'm afraid she's going to have her baby. Do you think you'd allow her to come in?"

"Oh! Yes! _Of course_!" May replied, stepping to the side and opening the screen door for them. "Virgil! Virgil come on out here dear!"

"What is it my love?" Virgil asked, coming out of his office and taking his glasses off.

"Teresa is going to have her baby!" May said cheerfully. "Why don't you run and get the doctor while I put her to bed?"

"Of course! Right away!" Virgil answered, reaching for his coat and hat. "I assume the sheriff here is going to go and get the father?"

Stiles nodded. "As soon as I see Teresa is rested it is my next task."

"Would you please take her to the guest room down the hall, Brett?" May requested. "I'm going to go upstairs and get her a nightgown."

Stiles nodded again and put a comforting hand on the small of Teresa's back. "Right away May. Come along with me, dear one. Let's go and get you settled."

He helped her with her shoes, coat and hat and when May came back with a nightgown, Stiles took his leave of them and went off to find Patrick to tell him the good news about Teresa going into labor.

May was the mother that Teresa had been craving her whole pregnancy. She helped her out of her clothes and pulled the nightgown over her head, helped her take her hair out of it's neat bun and braid it. She made sure she was completely comfortable.

After what seemed like forever but was only a few minutes, Virgil returned with the doctor. He examined her and told her that all looked good. A little while later, Patrick came running in, calling for her.

"We're in here son!" Virgil called back, going out to the hallway to retrieve the anxious father to be.

The little group left the couple alone for a few minutes and Patrick leaned in to kiss her.

"We're going to be parents!" Patrick whispered.

Teresa touched his face gently. "I know. Are you excited?"

"Yes," Patrick answered.

"I have something to tell you," Teresa said.

"What is it?"

"You are really going to be this child's father," Teresa explained. "I mean, Walter has no parental rights whatsoever. He died over in Europe. He's not going to bother us at all anymore."

Patrick looked at her in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

Teresa nodded. "Yes. There were two men to see me about it a little while ago. He's really gone."

"God rest his soul," Patrick said.

Teresa smiled at her sweet husband and kissed him again, he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," Patrick answered.

**.**

A good eighteen hours later, Harry George Jane was brought into the world. His cries filled the early morning, signaling to those around him that he was a very healthy child. May cleaned the boy up and placed him in his father's arms.

Patrick walked over to the window to see his face in the dim light of morning. He looked exactly like his mother and he was grateful for it. He didn't know what Walter looked like but he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life wondering.

"Patrick?" Teresa asked sleepily.

Patrick turned around to look at her. "Yes my darling?"

"Is everything okay?"

He went to her and handed her the baby before lying down in the spot next to her. "Yes. Everything's just swell. Our baby is perfect just like his mommy."

Teresa smiled and looked down at the little bundle in her arms, pushing the blue blanket away from his face. "He's beautiful."

"Just like you," Patrick repeated, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Teresa smiled a little wider and covered a yawn with her free hand. "Excuse me," she said.

"Try and get some sleep," Patrick told her. "I'm going to be here if either of you need anything. Just ask."

"I will," Teresa answered.

A few minutes later, the little family had all fallen fast asleep.

**.**

They were home by Christmas Eve. Patrick went out and found a little tree for them to decorate. Teresa strung popcorn and cranberries while she sang Christmas songs to a sleeping Harry.

Patrick came in the barn when she was putting Christmas Eve dinner on the table, the next day they would go to the Rigsby's house and share Christmas with them. Tonight would be for their little family.

"I have something for you," Patrick said after Teresa had blessed the meal.

"You can't wait for a few more hours?" Teresa asked, smirking at him.

"I've never been good with waiting when it comes to presents," Patrick admitted. "Besides, this is just your first gift. I have a couple more for you, I'll try and wait until tomorrow morning to give them to you."

"Okay," Teresa said. "What is it?"

She wasn't expecting him to get on the floor and kneel down in front of her. She wasn't expecting him to pull a velvet box out of his overalls pocket. She gasped a little bit when he opened the lid and held it out to her for her examination.

"Patrick what are you doing?" She asked, slightly stunned.

"We said we were going to do it right," Patrick answered. "Well, I'd like to start right now. Teresa Lisbon, would you do me the great honor of being my wife?"

Teresa nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "You know I will."

Patrick took the ring out and slid it on her left finger. She got to her feet, pulling him with her and kissed him.

"You've made me the happiest man on earth," Patrick told her.

"And you've made me the happiest woman," Teresa replied, embracing him.

**.**

_**Epilogue, five years later. . . **_

Teresa Jane looked out the window at her three children playing outside with her father, her husband and Jack. So much had happened since she had first moved to California, she had fallen in love and gotten married again. She had grown up and left her fanciful dreams behind in Chicago.

The first time she and Patrick had made love after she'd gotten permission from the doctor had been incredible. She had never known love like that before, he had treated her so much different than Walter had their first time. There hadn't been any flowery declarations, just words of pure adoration.

Not soon after that, she had received a letter from her father telling her that he was coming for a visit. When Virgil had brought him out to the farm, she had braced herself for more rebukes. For more hell fire and damnation, but it hadn't come. He'd taken one look at her and fallen into her arms, crying and asking for _her _forgiveness.

She forgave him and felt incredibly free.

Then, she had asked for his forgiveness because she hadn't trusted him and had gone actively searching for love in the wrong place.

He forgave her and she could tell from the look on _his _face, he felt incredibly free too.

It had been the start of a lovely father and daughter relationship.

He had started to come to California for yearly visits.

The first summer they visited Kim in Charleston, she and Patrick left Harry with her and her husband and went out on a date. They danced and kissed and he had rented a hotel room on the beach. With the sound of waves outside the windows and classical music from the room next door, and bathed in a golden pink sunset, they conceived their twins.

Nine months later, Anne and Michelle were born.

Teresa rinsed off the dinner dishes and smiled to herself. She had found the magic of ordinary days.

She was perfectly content.

**_The End_**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**This marks the end of one of my last stories in the Mentalist fandom. There are just two more left after this, I confess I am nervous and excited all at the same time. I have already started my first novel. A story about a girl named Libby who falls for a photographer named Leo. I have barely started and Leo is begging to be written into a sequel.**

**My next Mentalist story has to do with Lisbon going undercover to solve a series of murders at a rehab center. Another total AU, yes, but the response to this story has inspired me.**

**In the meantime, please tell me what you thought about the last chapter in Magic. I am looking forward to hearing your thoughts. Thank you for your continued support.**

**Until Next Time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 6/11/2015_**


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